


it's kind of our whole thing

by pearl_o, pocky_slash



Series: Math Reasons [2]
Category: X-Men: Days of Future Past (2014) - Fandom, X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, Brother-Sister Relationships, Canon Disabled Character, Canon Jewish Character, Established Relationship, Families of Choice, Family, M/M, Making Out, Outdoor Sex, Parent-Child Relationship, Past Child Abuse, Sexting, Summer Vacation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-23
Updated: 2015-09-23
Packaged: 2018-04-23 01:31:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 65,395
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4858100
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pearl_o/pseuds/pearl_o, https://archiveofourown.org/users/pocky_slash/pseuds/pocky_slash
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After two years of best friendship, Charles and Erik thought they knew everything there was to know about each other. They're surprised, then, when their first summer as a couple reveals that they have a lot to learn about each other and themselves.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Charles

**Author's Note:**

> We wrote a sequel to [Math Reasons](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4549839/chapters/10356768)! 
> 
> It's probably best to read that story before taking on this one. This follows Charles and Erik through their first summer as a couple and was just as delightful to write ♥

When the time comes, it's harder to leave school than Charles expected it to be.

All the things he's been saying to Erik--they've been apart longer, they'll see each other sooner than ever before, they can text and Skype and call--they're all true. This should be fine. He should be excited about all of the time they're going to be spending together this summer rather than dreading the three weeks they'll be apart, but the morning he leaves is difficult. It's difficult to leave Erik and it's difficult to put on a brave face to counteract Erik's forlorn pouting.

"Three weeks," he says to Erik quietly. They're next to Mr. Williams' car, facing each other. Charles is holding Erik's hands tightly in his own and trying not to give in to Erik's misery. 

"I know," Erik says. "It's just so stupid."

"It's just three weeks," Charles says. "We'll talk every day. All day. Just like we always have. It will make being together again that much better."

"I don't care," Erik says. "It's fucking stupid."

Charles can't disagree.

Eventually, amid kisses and embraces and tears that go on for too long, Charles gets in the car and waves to Erik as Mr. Williams drives away. 

It's stupid to be this upset. Three weeks. Less than a month, and he'll be spending those days with Raven alone, his mother and Kurt and Cain thousands of miles away. The days will fly by, he knows it.

It just doesn't _feel_ that way. He feels like he has a hole in his chest.

"There are tissues in seat pocket, Mr. Xavier," Mr. Williams says kindly, glancing up into the rearview mirror.

"Thank you, Mr. Williams," Charles says, his voice wobbling. He finds the tissues and wipes away his tears and tries to center himself. Three weeks. It's no time at all.

*

Charles remembers the summers and winter breaks when he was in high school--they always seemed to pass in a blink of an eye. This summer is sluggish in comparison, of course. It's been less than a week and it feels like a decade. He's just so used to spending every second with Erik, especially in the weeks since they started dating. Texting, Skype, even talking on the phone--it's not the same as having Erik with him.

It's definitely not the same as having Erik in his bed.

He's propped up on some pillows, idly rubbing his chest and thinking about Erik. He's thinking, specifically, about Erik the night before they left, kneeling over Charles, shirtless, with an obvious bulge in his boxers, his eyes bright and glassy and focused....

It's not quite the same, of course, as having Erik in front of him. Not quite enough, even. He opens his eyes and pulls out his phone, thumbing through to his photos and opening a folder called "Nature Backgrounds."

It does not contain nature backgrounds.

Halfway through, he finds a picture that's always been one of his favorites. It's from Erik's Instagram, a picture he posted once his nipple rings healed. Erik's vanity is frequently at war with his desire to be superior, so while he claims to be above posting shirtless bathroom selfies for likes, it doesn't stop him from posting "artistic" pictures that just happen to be shirtless. This one has some kind of filter and the lighting and shadows are very deliberate, but Charles cares about all of that much less than he cares about the long, bare stretch of Erik's torso.

God, but he has an amazing chest. And stomach. And the vee of his hipbones and the start of the trail of dark hair and--

Charles stares at the photo, but all the staring in the world won't move the bottom of the frame just sliiiightly lower. What he wouldn't give to have it pan down just a few inches more.

Then he freezes. Because...well. Erik's his boyfriend, now. And Erik made it pretty clear that he would be open to sending a certain type of photo if Charles asked.

They haven't...done that yet. Sexted. Or whatever. And he knows, of course, that it's normal and fine and everyone does it, but there's a certain amount of...embarrassment? Something. Something is making him hot and flushed and only part of it is from arousal. He's not sure he has it in him to just...ask Erik for a picture of his dick. 

But it's going to be a really long two and a half weeks if he doesn't.

He thumbs out of his photos and into his texts. It's not too late, yet, so odds are Erik's still up.

He types a few different things. 'Hey,' and 'what's up,' and 'god I miss you.' He deletes them all.

_Still awake?_ is what he sends instead. The screen doesn't have a chance to dim before Erik replies.

_yeah i was watching a thing with Ruth but she went to bed. What's up?_

Charles sucks on his teeth and tries to find a way to segue into nudes more...naturally.

_Nothing_ , he types. _In bed. Missing you._

That should be enough of an opening for Erik to take the bait. Erik is nearly always thinking about sex and much less hesitant to bring it up than Charles is.

_Missing me in bed, huh?_

Then, _i miss you too. Fuck. Like, I miss you being...you, of course. But I miss touching you._

Charles swallows.

_I miss you touching me too,_ he types slowly. He hits send, and, blushing to the roots of his hair, adds, _It's not the same when I touch myself._

He hits send again. There's a slightly longer pause this time, then several messages come quickly, one after the other.

_Are we sexting?_

_Like, is that what's going on?_

_because i'm super into it obvs_

_but, like, if you're just trying ot be like, sad, then I can do that too._

_but uh i hope we're sexting._

Charles laughs, loud and sudden, surprised by the sound of his own voice in the quiet room. He does miss Erik now, of course, deeply and wholly, because this conversation is _so_ Erik and Charles can hear him saying the words, almost feel him in the bed thinking them.

He sighs and smiles and replies, _Yes, we're sexting._

_AWESOME_ , Erik responds.

"In for a penny," Charles murmurs to himself.

_I was looking at a picture of you_ , he types before he can change his mind. _Of your bare chest. And I was thinking about how badly I wished the picture went down further. Because I really, really miss your cock. I miss all of you. I miss your hands and your laugh and your voice and your face, but I really miss your cock._

He hits send before he can second guess himself, and impatiently waits for the next message to come through. It takes longer than before, but after a moment, Charles sees why. Three pictures appear. In the first one, Erik is rubbing the bulge in his pajama pants. In the second, he's stuck his hand under his waistband. In the third, his pajamas are pushed down far enough that Charles can see Erik's hand wrapped around his cock.

He breathes in sharply, his pulse racing. The heat in his face is nearly all arousal, now. Fuck.

And then, before Charles can say or do anything else, another text comes through.

__

He laughs out loud again. He can't help it. God, he loves Erik.

_God, I wish I was there with you_ , Charles types.

He stares down at the pictures, back and forth between the tease and the reveal. He's biting his lower lip, gnawing at it gently as he brings up one hand to play on his chest again.

Another quick string of texts arrive, almost at once.

_me too_

_what would you do if you were here_

_you're going to send me pictures now too right?_

Charles doesn't exactly have the skills at managing a phone camera that Erik does, but fair's fair. 

_Just a minute_.

He sets the phone down on one of the pillows beside him for a moment, so he can work on slipping off the shorts he's still wearing. Once he's naked, he picks up the phone again and switches to selfie view and holds it above his body. He can't figure out a good angle--but Erik's not going to be really picky at this point, is he? Erik already knows what Charles' body looks like, and Charles knows he likes it. Erik's already hard. He can fill in the blanks.

Charles sends the most flattering of the snapshots, covering him from his shoulders down past his dick--which, happily, seems to be on board for this series of events. It's always kind of a spin on the roulette wheel, how his body's going to react during any specific encounter. Sometimes he doesn't get an erection at all; sometimes he does, but only when he's being directly stimulated, or only to a certain degree, or only for a little while. But tonight seems like one of those occasional instances when all his nerves are working together, and the hotness of Erik's pictures and the embarrassing thrill of trying this new thing have him getting hard already.

Charles wraps one hand around his dick, squeezing tightly, and awkwardly types with his left hand.

_I want to touch you so much._ Charles swallows heavily. _It should be my hand on you instead of yours._

Erik's reply takes a minute to arrive. Charles uses the time to start working himself properly, long, harsh, even strokes. The sensations are somewhat diffuse, different than what he sees in Erik's mind when they have sex, but they're there. If he had planned ahead, he could have gotten out his favorite vibrator (it's one of the intense ones that Erik refuses to admit he's a little intimidated by), but it's in the plastic bin with his other toys, across the room in the closet. That's okay, though, because this is still really good.

When Erik's next text does come through, it's longer than his usually are.

_it should be you. i wish it was you. every time i've jerked off since i got home i've been thinking about you, your mouth and your ass and your hands and your eyes and your arms and your neck and the way your hair smells. i want to just kiss you for hours but i also just really want you to suck my cock. fuck._

Charles has to close his eyes and turn his face into the pillow, trying to get a hold of himself. But he can only stand it for a moment before he opens his eyes again and looks back at the phone, Erik's goddamn words and Erik's gorgeous huge fucking cock. He can imagine it, what Erik looked like jerking off this week, what he must look like right now. The sloppy glide of his slick hand as it twists over the crown on every upstroke. The furrow he gets in his brow that makes it looks like he's worried about something or concentrating very seriously, hiding away all the fun and play that Charles has found accompanies Erik in bed. The way the muscles in his thighs flex and jump.

_We could do both_ , Charles replies. The typing is still slow-going--he doesn't have Erik's skill of doing it one-handed--but there's no way he's going to spare a hand from his dick now, when it's doing so well. _Kiss you, kiss your dick, back and forth, let you taste yourself_.

Almost immediately, Erik responds: _fuck_.

_fuck charles_

_im reallaly close_

Charles can't breathe, can't think, can't keep his eyes open anymore. He has to--

He drops the phone on the bed and pinches his nipple hard, rolling the nub between his finger and thumb, even as he speeds up the strokes on his dick. A grunt escapes him, not particularly loud but startling in the quiet room. He pictures it, Erik coming, the look on his face that Charles will never ever ever get tired of seeing--and then Charles' orgasm hits, too, all in a rush, semen running down over his fingers in weak pulses.

That's another surprise, actually, Charles reflects, when he can think again. Ejaculation isn't something that happens to him all that often. He wipes the spunk off against his belly and picks up the phone again, reading over the messages he missed from Erik.

_coming fuck_

_god. i love you so much_

_charles_

_are you still there??? did you come too?_

_chaaaarles_

Charles grins dopily at the screen.

_Sorry_ , he types. _I needed both hands for a minute._

He lifts the camera up above himself again and clicks another picture of his torso, making sure the evidence is visible, and then hits send.

Erik's response is immediate and dramatic.

_REALLY????_

_And i missed it_

_this being apart thing is TERRIBLE._

Charles can't help but smile, his chest aching a little with the desire to wrap his arms around Erik, dramatics and all.

_It's not that much longer,_ Charles lies.

_It is SO MUCH LONGER,_ Erik responds almost immediately.

_like, SO MUCH_

_and UGH i still can't believe i missed that_

_i had like, plans_

__

Charles has to fumble around in his bedside table to find some tissues. He considers, briefly, putting a box next to the bed, but he's sure that will just jinx him. After he cleans himself up, he settles back down into the blankets and turns off his bedside lamp.

_You can always tell me about your plans_ , Charles types back, finally.

_then they won't be a surprise_ , Erik responds.

_BUT i bet I can come up with some new plans to tell you about tomorrow night_

_and other stuff_

_because we're def doing this again. Like, A LOT._

_right?_

It might not be the same as having Erik with him, but the sexting was better than trying to get off on his own, at least. He still felt a connection, a pull to Erik, like this was still something shared between them.

_Right,_ Charles tells him. Then, after a long sigh, _I miss you so much, Erik. I just...._

He hits send and tries to figure out how to express what he means in words. He's never as good with words as he wants to be, not when it's usually so much easier to default to thoughts.

_It's all I can think about. Being with you again. Talking to you about stupid things and knowing I can reach out and feel your mind or hold your hand or touch you or press up against you. I thought I would like having a quiet house to myself for a couple days, but instead, I'm just missing you._

He hits send before he can second guess himself or change the wording or trying to tweak the message. He has to commend text messaging for making him so much more spontaneous with the written word. Whenever he emails, he spends ages trying to shape the words into the way he sees them in his head. Texting is much more like talking--just throwing out his feelings without self-editing. Sometimes it means he says things he regrets and immediately wants to take back, but more frequently, it makes him more candid with the people he cares about, and he figures that's probably a good thing.

_fuck_ , Erik responds after what feels like a lifetime.

_me too. All of that, I mean._

_17 days._

Seventeen days. Charles almost wishes he had a calendar so he can mark them off. Maybe he'll make one tomorrow. Is that too sappy?

_I love you,_ he types. _Call me when you wake up?_

_yeah of course. i love you too._

Charles plugs his phone into the charger on the table, and settles in to sleep.

*

The days continue to move like molasses, even if the texts do make things slightly more bearable. Charles is pretty sure he's going to have to think of a new folder name, something even more boring and unremarkable than "nature backgrounds," so no one else will ever see the collection he's amassing.

Not that all his pictures of Erik are explicit, of course. Charles is particularly fond of one he saves from Ruth's Facebook, where it breaks up the series of her excited and intense posts as the school year winds down. Erik is stretched out bonelessly on the Lehnsherrs' living room floor, looking tragic and mournful and, yes, ridiculous.

_Look at this sad sack_ , Ruth's caption reads. _@Charles Xavier, you better get here soon before he drives me completely nuts._

When Raven gets home from school Friday afternoon, she stands in the doorway for a while, watching Charles with a critical expression.

"What?" Charles finally says.

"You're being so dumb," Raven says. "Did you even shower today?"

Charles is, in fact, still in his pajamas. He's spent the day camped out on the couch with a bag of Fritos and a stack of werewolf novels.

"It's vacation," he says defensively.

Raven rolls her eyes. "Whatever, mopey."

It's not that she doesn't have a point, if Charles is being honest. "I could get dressed now, and we could go out to dinner," Charles suggests.

"I have plans with Angel," Raven says. "Sorry!"

Raven is very clearly not sorry at all. 

Charles makes a face at her. "You're the worst."

"I'm flawless and you adore me madly," Raven corrects him. "And don't pretend you're not going to forget I exist the moment Erik shows up."

"You wound me deeply."

"Uh-huh," Raven says cheerfully, giving him a small wave as she leaves.

It's an okay night, anyway. Charles orders a pizza and continues his _Kitchen Nightmares_ rewatch, and he and Erik have a long Skype session while Erik's still sweaty from his evening run. The combination of sexual frustration, impatience, and boredom has apparently inspired Erik to devote most of his excess energy towards exercise.

Given the results--Erik sweaty and flushed and frequently shirtless--Charles can't say he's opposed to the idea.

Strangely, though they've definitely been spending their evenings this week sending tons of sexy texts, they haven't done anything over Skype beyond flirting. Most of their Skype sessions are spent talking about their days or doing absolutely nothing. They've spent two nights in a row, now, watching television and Netflix movies together, talking intermittently through it like they always do when they're together, and sparing each other smiles and glances as they watch. It's almost like having Erik with him, sprawled out on the couch next to him. He likes it more than he'd like anything more risque, he thinks.

He's in bed before Raven gets home, which isn't unusual. He knows that part of the reason she and Angel were going out was to celebrate the end of finals and thus the end of their academic obligations of high school; he expects they have quite a bit of celebrating to do. What's slightly stranger is that when he drags himself out of bed around noon, after reading in bed for a few hours, there's still no sign of her. Noon turns to one and one turns to two and just as Charles is about to break a million of their personal rules and figure out why she hasn't left her room all morning, she emerges.

She looks _wrecked_. And absolutely miserable.

"Raven?" he asks quietly as she descends the stairs, and that's all it takes for her to burst spectacularly into tears. "Oh god, Raven, what's wrong?"

She runs down the stairs and collapses in front of Charles, burying her face in his lap and sobbing.

"Angel broke up with me!" she wails.

Charles is rather sure, _I was wondering when she was going to get on with that_ isn't the response she's looking for.

"I'm so sorry, darling," he says, running his hand through her hair soothingly. "That's awful."

"I can't believe it!" Raven sobs. "I thought--I thought--we're both going to Claremont and I thought--"

The crying takes over again, and she presses her face into his knees, her body shaking with each new hiccuping wail. Charles tries to hum soothingly as he strokes her hair and back and wonders what he should do to comfort her. He's never had a break-up like this before. He cried a little when he and Gabrielle broke up, but even then, the decision was mutual and positive enough that it didn't last for long. And everyone else...well, he met Erik a few months after he and Gabrielle broke up, didn't he?

"I'm so sorry," he says again. "I can't imagine what you're going through."

She's only eighteen, though. She can't have imagined that she was going to stay with Angel forever, could she? Angel's the only girlfriend--or boyfriend or any kind of significant other--that she's ever had. Staying with her just seems...silly.

Again, not what Raven is going to want to hear. He wishes, suddenly, that Erik was around. Erik might be terrible with other people's feelings, but his unerring sense of loyalty somehow usually leads to him saying the right thing.

Eventually, Raven's sobs taper off enough that she can speak. She sits back on the floor, looking up at him, tears still shining in her eyes.

"She said," she starts to say, sniffling, "she said that...going to college...we'll both have so many new...opportunities, or whatever. That she didn't want either of us to be limited. And that she didn't want to lead me on because she didn't think she was in love with me." Raven's lower lip wobbles and Charles thinks, for a moment, she's going to start to cry again. "And that she wanted to wait until after finals because she didn't want it to distract me, but that it seems silly to spend the whole summer pretending we're something we're not." Her face crumples and the tears start to flow again. "I thought she loved me!"

Literally everything Charles can think of to say seems like the wrong thing. Even at the best of times, he has a tendency to put his foot in his mouth around Raven, and at a time like this... He feels helpless--it's hellish, seeing Raven so miserable and not being able to do anything. 

"If she doesn't, that's her loss," Charles finally says.

"It doesn't feel like her loss," Raven says, sniffling. "She's not the one who's miserable."

"You're wonderful and beautiful and funny and she doesn't deserve you," Charles says firmly. "And, and--you're going to meet a million new people soon and do a million new things and in a couple months you'll barely remember her."

Raven pulls away from his hand as her eyes narrow at him. "You don't get it, Charles! How would you feel if Erik broke up with you? You wouldn't just get over it that easily."

If Erik broke up with him, Charles would probably feel like his life was over, but he really doesn't think there's any comparison between their relationship and the one Angel and Raven shared.

He's _definitely_ not going to say that.

"I'm sorry," Charles says again. "I'm so sorry, Raven."

Raven sighs, her face softening again. Maybe she's too miserable to be properly annoyed with him. 

"What can I do for you?" Charles says. "We can do...whatever you want." What do people do after being dumped? All he can think of are movie stereotypes, junk food and teary TV marathons and shopping.

Raven shakes her head. "I don't want to do anything," she says. She rises to her feet. She's crying again, but silently now, tears trickling down her face without her seeming to notice. "I'm going to go eat something and then just go back to bed."

"Well," Charles says, feeling more useless than ever, "I'll be around if you change your mind."

"Thanks," Raven says dully, and she turns and drifts into the next room like a ghost as Charles watches.

"She's just crushed," Charles tells Erik that evening on the phone. "I don't know what to do."

"She'll get over it," Erik says. "Sometimes you have to be miserable for a while. This Angel sounds like a bitch, anyway. I bet Raven could do way better."

Charles groans and covers his face with one hand. "You're not really much help."

"Raven is too awesome to let anyone keep her from realizing how awesome she is for very long."

"That's not how she feels right now, though," Charles says.

Erik is quiet for a minute. "I'm going to call you back in a little bit, okay?"

"Why?" Charles says, confused, and then as he realizes: "Wait, are you going to call Raven? What are you going to say to her? You have to be careful, Erik--"

"Trust me," Erik says. "I love you, talk to you in a bit."

He hangs up. Charles stares bleakly at the phone.

"Well, this is going to be a disaster," he says to no one.

He anxiously channel surfs as he waits for Raven to explode, chewing on his lower lip and wondering just how angry Raven is going to be at Erik for meddling and how much of that anger she's going to take out on him.

He gets through half of an episode of _Iron Chef America_ before the door to Raven's room opens and she reappears. She's not crying any longer and she looks...well, if not happy, less devastated than she did when she disappeared upstairs. She has her phone pinned between her shoulder and her ear and as she walks by, she actually laughs.

"Yeah," she says into the phone, "I guess you're right."

She disappears down the hall and then reappears a few minutes later, still talking, carrying a bag of chips.

"Aw, that's nice of you," he hears as she walks by again, and then she's back up the stairs and gone.

Okay, maybe she's not going to take anything out on him.

It's a whole episode of _Iron Chef_ later that his phone rings again, finally.

"What did you say to her?" Charles asks as soon as he picks up. "She's...better."

"Just told her how awesome she is," Erik says. Charles can almost see his shrug. "Not a big deal." 

"It's..." He's not sure how to communicate that it _is_ a big deal. "I love you, you know that?"

"I do," Erik says. "Wanna watch _The Daily Show_?"

"I..." Charles shakes his head, disbelieving. "Sure," he says. "Okay."

Charles doesn't see Raven for the rest of the day. Sunday morning, though, she comes down to have breakfast with him. Her eyes are a little puffy, but she's not inconsolably crying, so he counts it as a win.

"Good morning?" he asks tentatively. She gives him a small smile. It's nothing like her usual smile, but it's better than nothing.

"Good morning," she says. "Did you make coffee?"

"On the counter," Charles says.

She smiles again and Charles can't stop wondering what Erik said to her. He knows Erik will never tell him.

If he's a little jealous that Erik's able to connect with her and help her where Charles couldn't... well, he's a lot more relieved. 

Raven's moods have a lot of ups and downs over the next week--Monday night is particularly hard, after the first day back at school and having to see Angel again--but on the whole she seems like she's going to be okay. She's still really sad, but flashes of her normal self show through enough to keep Charles from worrying about her constantly.

For his part, Charles does his utmost to cut down on the moping. Or the appearance of moping, anyway; what he does while Raven's at school is his own business. It's sort of a tough line to walk, though, since he doesn't want to be too happy, either, in case it seems like he's shoving it in her face. 

Mostly he spends a lot of time reading, all the just for pleasure stuff he doesn't have time for during the school year. Reading, and not a little daydreaming about how great it's going to be when Erik finally arrives.

Seven days. Six. Five.

"I have the car all packed already," Erik says, when there's four days to go.

"Eager, huh?" Charles says, smiling up at his bedroom ceiling.

"Shut up, you're just as impatient."

He is, it's true. "Do you have a special playlist set up for the ride?" Charles says.

"Well, I mean, I have it down to three possibilities!" Erik says, the eagerness in his voice warning Charles that he's in for a detailed inventory of the specific pros and cons of each option. 

He adjusts his pillows to get comfortable and settles in to listen. 

Raven loses patience with him entirely over the last handful of days, and Charles can't really blame her. 

The day Erik is set to arrive, Charles wakes up to an Instagram notification. He clicks through before he's even gotten out of bed: it's Erik, posed in front of his car in the early morning summer sunlight, grinning his widest, toothiest grin, the one Moira always says makes him look deranged. 

_400 miles to go, counting down now!_


	2. Erik

"Have you got everything?" Mom asks for the hundredth millionth time. Erik tries not to sigh.

He fails.

"I'm just going for a week!" Erik reminds her. "And I know I've got everything and if I _don't_ , there are, you know, stores there."

"I know," Mom says, and reaches out to stroke his hair. Erik allows it, if only because he knows she'll be upset if he shrugs her away. "Have a safe trip. Call me at the office when you get there. Give Charles a big hug from us and--do you have the card for Raven?"

Erik is marginally more successful at not rolling his eyes than he was at not sighing.

"Yes," he says. "I have everything, I swear. I really want to get on the road." It's a six hour drive, so, in theory, if he leaves now, he'll get to Charles' house an hour or two before Raven gets home from school, which will give them the house to themselves long enough to fool around for a little while.

"Of course you do," Mom says. She smiles at him, like she knows exactly _why_ he wants to get there so early, and he can tell he's blushing but he tries to act like he's not. "Jake! Come say goodbye to your son!"

Dad comes out of the house, still holding his coffee. It is, admittedly, a little early for his parents to be up. He told them a million times they didn't have to get up to say goodbye. Parents are so weird.

His parents both hug him goodbye nearly as much as they do when he leaves for school, even though he'll only be gone a week. His dad gives him twenty bucks to stop for coffee along the way, and then Erik is finally, finally in his car and on the road.

It's a really, really boring drive, but he's used to it. Once he's out of the Buffalo suburbs, it's nothing but like, farms and trees and nothingness all the way until Binghamton. He has two great playlists all ready to go, plus a bunch of podcasts. And, if he really gets bored, he can call Charles and talk. 

It should be basically the same as driving out to school, but it's not. He has to remind himself not to speed even more than usual, has to keep himself from anxiously jittering in his seat when he hits traffic and remind himself that lifting his car over the other cars and floating past the accident rubbernecking is super illegal. He's crawling out of his skin with impatience, and he knows it's because this is different than school--he's never done this drive with Charles-his-boyfriend at the other end.

The worst is the traffic when he switches to 84 for the last leg of the drive. There's construction and an accident and he has an eye on the clock and he's so close-- _so close_ \--that he wants to scream. Instead, he calls Charles.

"Are you here? You're early!" Charles says breathlessly when he picks up.

"No," Erik grunts. "I'm stuck in traffic in like, Middletown."

"Middletown?" Charles says. "But that's so close! An hour, maybe less!"

"I'm going _crazy_ ," Erik insists. "We're barely moving and I'm so close and--"

"We waited three weeks," Charles says firmly. "An hour is nothing. Come on, I'll put on two episodes of _Archer_ and we'll listen to them and then you'll practically be here."

"That's a dumb plan," Erik says, but before long he hears the start of an _Archer_ teaser and then, in what seems like no time after that, he's listening to the credits for the second time and turning off 84 and onto the local roads.

"Call me when you get to the gate," Charles says. "I can't wait to see you."

"Me either," Erik says absently, eyeing the endless trees, giant houses, and golf courses passing on either side of him. "Love you, bye." He knew Charles was rich, obviously, and he's seen pictures of the house before but...in his head, it was just like, a giant house in a town of normal sized houses. This is...a really rich town. 

It doesn't matter though. What matters is the last fifteen minutes in the car, which end in Erik driving up to a big, wrought iron gate, embellished with fancy X'es. He calls Charles, who nearly squeaks into the phone and tells him he'll open the gates and see him at the top of the driveway, then hangs up. A moment later, the gates pull open, and Erik drives through.

And drives.

And drives.

And drives.

Just as he's starting to get nervous that he missed a turn or something, the house comes into view.

It's...a lot bigger in person. Really, really bigger. Like, maybe Erik shouldn't have been worried about getting home before Raven, because they could probably have screaming sex in another zip code without ever leaving the house.

He pulls to a stop next to what he recognizes from pictures as the car Charles drove in high school. It's in front of a row of garages, each probably as big as his house.

Then a door nearby opens up and Charles comes rolling down the ramp and Erik forgets about how big and intimidating and expensive everything around him is.

"Charles," he murmurs, and fumbles out of the car so quickly it's a wonder he doesn't fall face first onto the concrete.

Charles laughs a little, but fuck it, Erik could give a shit. Charles is sharing his emotions, way stronger than he normally does, and his excitement and joy are just as potent as Erik's.  
They meet at the bottom of the ramp. Erik braces his hands on the back of the wheelchair so he can lean over and kiss Charles, long and breathless.

Erik leans his forehead against Charles' as they break apart. Charles' eyes are--fuck, they're so fucking blue, so bright and intelligent and beautiful. Erik's taken a ton of pictures of Charles and he's sure he'll take a million more, but he hasn't been able to get his eyes right in a single one. You have to see Charles in person for that, he's pretty certain.

"Longest three weeks _ever_ ," Erik says earnestly.

Charles laughs again, stroking his hand through Erik's hair. "I'm so glad you're here. Come on, grab your stuff and we'll dump it in my room."

"Okay," Erik agrees, and he kisses Charles once more, quickly, before he straightens up and heads back to the car to grab his duffel bag and follow Charles inside.

The interior of the house doesn't seem any more real than the exterior. It's not, like, ostentatious, exactly--it's not like everything's covered in gold and diamonds or anything--but everything's kind of muted and tasteful in the way that makes sure you know perfectly well how expensive it all is. It feels like a luxury hotel or something, that perfect and that impersonal. Erik's not used to feeling uncomfortable in his own skin, but if he didn't know better he'd think someone was going to show up to yell at him for not wearing a tie or tracking his sneakers on the floors.

"This is where you grew up?" Erik says. He can't quite believe it, even though he knows it's true. There's absolutely nothing about this place that seems to say _Charles_ at all. 

"Yep," Charles says. "We--my mother and father and I, I mean--lived in Britain until around the time I started school, but this has been the main residence ever since."

Erik considers following up on "main residence," but before he makes a decision, Charles comes to a stop in front of a door. "My room!"

This is a relief after the rest of the house, because the bedroom at least is overflowing with Charles' personality. It's filled with all of Charles' things, of course, most of which Erik recognizes from his dorm at school, but it also just...feels like Charles, his interests and his tastes and everything else.

Erik sets his bag down on the bed and then sits down next to it. He's seen the bed in Charles' pictures and Skype, and obviously he's had plans for it already, but what hadn't come through that way was the fact that it's clearly at least four times as large as Charles' bed at school. 

Charles is watching him, beaming silently. Erik meets his gaze and raises his eyebrows up and down suggestively and tilts his chin toward the mattress beside him.

Charles laughs again. God, Erik loves that sound. He even loves it when it's Charles being a jerk and making fun of him, but he _really_ loves it now, when it's just Charles being too happy to keep it inside.

"Soon," Charles says, "very soon, definitely. But I don't want to stop once we start, and I'm pretty sure if you don't call your mom she's going to call us."

"That is probably a valid point, yeah," Erik has to admit. "Fine, okay."

"I bet you didn't stop to eat on the way, either, just pushed through the whole trip," Charles says. His voice is soft and warm.

"Hey, I ate!" Erik says. "There were hashbrowns this morning from McDonald's, and I had a box of granola bars in my car, so…"

"Come to the kitchen and I'll heat you up something while you call your mom, okay?" Charles says. "And then after, I can welcome you here properly."

Erik sighs. "All right."

Leaving Charles' room sucks, though, out of the oasis of normalcy to the freaky mansion. Even the kitchen, when they get there, doesn't look like a real place where people live and cook. It looks like a photoshoot from one of the magazines in the waiting room at his mom's work. Or maybe like one of those fake sample rooms they have at upscale department stores. 

Erik tries to imagine spreading out his homework on the island, the way he does at the table at home, or chopping vegetables for dinner here. He has a pretty good imagination, but not that good, apparently.

Charles opens the fridge, which is full of stacks of covered aluminum trays, all with neat labels on the tops and sides. 

"Who made all that food?" Erik asks.

"They hire someone to cook and deliver a week's worth of meals every Tuesday when it's just us in the house. She does the grocery shopping, too," Charles says, a little dismissively. "How does veggie lasagna sound?"

"Fine," Erik says slowly. 

"Okay," Charles says. "I'll heat some up--why don't you go sit down and call your mother?"

Before Erik can ask where he should sit down, the directions drop neatly into his mind, and he follows them automatically. Turning right after the door to the pantry, he finds himself in a normal sized room with a normal looking table and chairs and a buffet cabinet stacked with plain white dishes. There are french doors that look out onto the grounds. It still looks fancy--the table can probably seat about ten people, easily--but it's slightly less impersonal. It makes Erik feel just the smallest bit at ease.

He pulls out his phone and dials his mom at work, taking a seat at the table and tapping his fingers against it while waiting for the call to connect.

"Dr. Friedman's office, how can I help you?" his mother says after three rings.

"Hi, Mom," Erik says. "I'm here safe and sound."

"Oh, wonderful!" Mom says. "Was it a good drive? How's the car? How's Charles?"

"The drive was fine," he says. "Traffic sucked, but it wasn't too bad. The car is fine. Charles is great--he's heating up some lunch."

"Tell him we're all looking forward to seeing him next week," she says. "Ruth is so excited he'll be here for her big day. Did you give Raven her card from us yet?"

"She's not home yet," Erik says. "And I figure, you know, I'll give it to her on her actual graduation?"

"Don't forget!" Mom says. Charles comes in then, two plates resting on the tray snapped onto the front of his wheelchair.

"I promise I won't forget," Erik says, rolling his eyes. Moms. "Charles is here with food, so I'm gonna go, okay?"

"Okay, okay," Mom says. "Tell Charles we love him. We love you too, and we'll see you soon. Call us before you leave to come back."

"I will," Erik promises.

"And you two boys--be careful, okay?"

Erik can feel his ears heating up.

"Bye, Mom," he says pointedly.

"Goodbye, sweetheart!" she says, and, mercifully, hangs up.

Erik knows his whole face is red, even as Charles puts lunch in front of him.

"Is everything okay?" Charles asks.

"Yep," Erik says, though his ears are still burning. "Mom's just, you know. Being a mom. She said hi and stuff."

"Aw," Charles says, grinning.

"...and told us to 'be careful' which is definitely mom-speak for 'use a condom,'" Erik continues. Charles sputters a laugh.

"Oh my," he says. "I suppose you didn't want to explain why we don't?"

Erik flushes more.

"Uh, no, I want to go back to the world where my mom never talks about sex with me ever again," he says, which just makes Charles laugh again.

As embarrassing as it is, though, talking about sex is reminding Erik that he and Charles haven't _had_ sex in three weeks, and that all that's standing between them and Charles' giant bed is reheated veggie lasagna.

He abruptly dedicates himself to his lunch with relish. Charles smirks at him, but he begins to eat too, and before long the smirks are less condescending and more heated. Ugh, why do they have to eat? It's been three weeks since he's touched Charles. It's been just as long since Charles has touched him. All the photos and sexting and Skype chats and fantasies in the world are nothing compared to actually being with Charles. He'd happily starve if it meant he could have his hands on Charles _right now_.

"Stop thinking so much about sex while I'm trying to eat!" Charles says, his face flushed, his meal mostly finished. 

"Stop being so sexy!" Erik counters, grinning with all his teeth.

"Oh my god, chew your food at least!" Charles says, but Erik has barely swallowed before Charles decides that enough is enough and grabs Erik's arm, pulling him close enough to kiss. 

Erik needs very little encouragement to comply. He needs even less to get up off his chair and deposit himself on Charles' lap. 

"Erik!" Charles laughs breathlessly, breaking the kiss. "Although the thought of having sex in every room in this wretched place has definitely crossed my mind, we're not having reunion sex in the staff dining room."

Staff dining room. At least that explains the lack of luxury here. And Erik will think about how he feels about that later. Right now, he's mostly thinking about how it feels to rub his half-hard cock up again Charles again after ages and _ages_ apart.

He kisses Charles again, and for all his complaining, Charles kisses him back and sinks his fingers into Erik's hair, holding him close and pulling when Erik moves his mouth to Charles' throat. He missed Charles' throat. He missed Charles pulling his hair. He missed everything about Charles, really.

"Get off me so we can go upstairs before I go crazy," Charles says breathlessly, though his hands are still in Erik's hair. Erik means to move, he does, but he's rocking himself against Charles and biting his throat and it all feels so good and there's no real motivation to stop--

"I want to touch your cock and I'm not doing that in the kitchen, it's unsanitary," Charles murmurs, rubbing at the bulge in Erik's jeans, and okay, that's some motivation.

He stumbles off of Charles and watches Charles eye his crotch hungrily. Oh fuck, definitely motivating.

"Lead the way," he says.

He follows Charles through the meandering halls again to the elevator--Erik's never heard of people having elevators in their actual house, but he guesses it's practical for Charles, especially since this place seems to have at least four or five stories. He does _not_ climb into Charles' lap again as soon as the elevator doors close, for which he's pretty sure he deserves, like, a fucking medal.

Erik does eye the walls meaningfully, but Charles shuts him down before he can even make the suggestion.

"You're not using your powers on the elevator," Charles says firmly. He looks a lot more together than Erik feels, which would be annoying if a) Erik didn't know it was a total facade and b) that wasn't about to change very, very soon. "It would only save us a couple of seconds, anyway."

"You're no fun," Erik says, to which Charles says nothing, but does give Erik a heated smug look that makes Erik really, really glad that they've reached Charles' floor and the doors open again before he can respond.

They make their way down the hallway to Charles' room. By the time Erik's locked the door behind them Charles is already pulling his shirt off over his head. Erik follows suit eagerly, stripping down and leaving the clothes on a pile by his feet. When he's done, he grabs his bag to toss on the floor, and then he's helping Charles up and onto the bed with him.

Erik rolls them over until they're on their sides and kisses Charles again. He can't decide where he wants to touch first--he's made _so_ many plans over the last couple weeks, so many things he wanted to do with Charles when they saw each other again, and now that the moment's here they're all blurring together. So instead his hands just keep roaming all over, skimming over Charles' back and sides, sinking into his soft hair for a moment, thumbing over Charles' nipple and making him gasp into Erik's mouth.

 _Missed you so much_ , Erik thinks, and obviously he's always loved Charles' telepathy anyway, but it makes it really convenient to not have to stop kissing to talk.

 _Me too,_ Charles says, pushing an almost tangible wave of love and affection into Erik's mind. 

Between that and the hand that Charles snakes between their bodies to grab Erik's cock, Erik's a little overwhelmed. In a good way.

He has to stop kissing Charles now, because he can't help but groan--too loud, he thinks at first, but then he remembers that they aren't in the dorms, there's nobody else around for, fuck, _miles_ probably. 

"The pictures were nice," Charles whispers, still beating Erik off, "but they don't really do it justice, you know?"

"Shut up," Erik says. He thinks he might be blushing. Charles definitely is. And, it's like--he knows Charles thinks he's vain, and maybe he is, a little, but. It really, really gets him off when Charles talks about his cock like that, about it being big or perfect or lovely or whatever, and Erik hadn't thought he was _that_ obvious about it, but it's not like he can hide anything from Charles.

He buries his face in Charles' neck, sucking and nibbling and kissing, listening to Charles' harsh pants in his ear while Charles jerks him off. Well, it's half Charles jerking him off and kind of half Erik just rubbing against him, because Erik's remembered where he meant to put his hand in the first place, right here on the curve of Charles' fan-fucking-tastic ass, clutching their bodies tight together.

Charles' hand is dry, and Erik can tell that if they went on very much longer it might start to get to the edge of uncomfortable. But luckily that's not going to be an issue, because there's no way Erik is going to last. 

"Fuck," Erik says, and yeah, it's way louder than he ever was at school, and Charles is sharing his emotions again, this crazy rush of satisfaction and lust and Erik doesn't even know what else, all mixed together, as Erik comes all over both of them.

He didn't mean to be quite so loud when he came, he realizes, panting against Charles' neck. He's pretty sure he shouted. And they probably shouldn't get in the habit of being so loud, given that they'll be back at school in no time at all, but...well, it's been three weeks. He couldn't help himself.

"Did you...?" he asks, lifting his head. "Should I--"

"No," Charles says, and Erik maybe should have looked at him first because Charles definitely looks fucked out and pleased. "I sort of...tagged along with you by accident. It happened so fast that I didn't have time to disengage and...mmm." He closes his eyes on a long, happy sigh and pulls Erik down for another kiss. Erik is happy to oblige.

They kiss for a long time. Erik missed this just as much as sex, maybe more--just holding onto Charles, kissing him with no real destination in mind, being wrapped up in his psychic space. He feels so much _better_ , it's so fucking weird. It's like, for the past three weeks, something inside of him has been just slightly off center. Being back with Charles...it feels right. It's always felt right, even before when they were just best friends, but he notices it much more now that they're dating. Before, he'd be sulky and mildly annoyed when he and Charles were apart for breaks. Now it feels like torture. He can't believe he lasted nearly a month without being able to touch Charles like this.

"I love you so much," he tells Charles seriously between kisses. Charles grins sleepily at him and Erik shakes his head. It's suddenly so important that Charles knows. "No," he insists. "No, I mean it. I just--" He opens his mouth to elaborate, but words fail him. "I just...I just...I'm so fucking happy to be here, you know? Fuck, I'm so happy, and I don't know how I did it. I don't know how I got through the past few weeks. It's like I wasn't a whole person before, you know?"

Charles is looking more serious now, thankfully. He nods and strokes Erik's cheek.

"I know what you mean," he says. "I love you too."

"Good," Erik says, and he tucks his face into the space between Charles' neck and shoulder, just listening to his heartbeat and hearing his breathe.

He doesn't mean to fall asleep that way, but...well, he got up really early and it's been a long drive and a long day and the weight of all those awful, Charles-less days seems to drop onto him all at once. It seems like second nature to just drift asleep with his arms wrapped tightly around Charles, sprawled out warm and happy in his bed.


	3. Charles

Having Erik in the house is strange and wonderful simultaneously. It's strange, seeing Erik in the context of hundreds of years of Xavier opulence, seeing the way Erik walks through the halls, slightly uncomfortable if they're anywhere other than his room, Raven's room, their den, the back kitchen, or the pool. Mostly, though, it's wonderful to fall asleep in his bed with Erik in his arms, to have so much _space_ to play around with sex and positions and toys and their bodies. It's wonderful to go back to spending all his time with Erik, just watching television and eating and napping and arguing. With Erik and Raven both at the house with him, he has all his favorite people together and close to him. And with Raven at school for most of the day, he has hours and hours alone with Erik with no chance of anyone else stumbling upon them.

That's probably how it starts. The two of them, an empty house, and three weeks and celibacy is heady in and of itself. Add in swimwear and suntan lotion and the inviting bright blue water of the pool and Charles is slightly surprised he and Erik have done anything but have sex.

And they've had a _lot_ of sex.

The first day, he figured they'd be good and read or swim or lounge, and they did read a little. They did swim a little. But Erik's swim trunks are short and tight and Charles is so fair that he needs to apply sunblock practically every hour and Erik's hands on him, wearing that--they were doomed from the start.

And they've continued to be doomed. Every day. At least twice a day. Sometimes three times. He suspects more than three times, now that Erik discovered the double lounger while looking for more inner tubes.

Charles would feel guilty if having sex with his super hot boyfriend in the sun next to the pool wasn't so scorchingly sexy.

The morning of Raven's last day of school, they head out to the pool immediately after breakfast. 

"This is my favorite thing about your house," Erik says, settling down on the concrete to dip his legs into the water, while Charles transfers himself onto the pool lift. "Well, this and your bed, I guess. It's pretty awesome being able to sleep next to you without worrying about your back or moving to the floor."

Charles smiles and dips himself under the water. He takes a deep breath as he rises again and pushes himself off the edge of the pool to start doing his laps.

It's hard to concentrate on it, to get lost in the exercise like he does when he's alone, not when he can feel Erik's attention and focus on him so clearly. He gets himself through five laps through sheer force of will before he takes a break, stopping and resting his arms on the pool's lip to stare up at Erik.

Erik's moved to one of the lounge chairs, where he's spread out in the sun like a lazy cat. His skin's an even golden color all over--except under his trunks, of course, but they're skimpy enough to not make much of a difference, in Charles' opinion.

Charles is pretty grateful he didn't ever see Erik in swimming gear before they got together. He really doesn't think he could have taken it. He wonders vaguely where Erik even buys them. The internet, probably, some retro fashion website.

"You don't use enough sunscreen," he tells Erik seriously. "You're going to get skin cancer, you know, and when you do I'm going to say I told you so."

"Whatever," Erik says. "You think it's hot."

Charles does think it's hot. He wants to lick every inch of Erik's skin. But that's not really the point, so he just rolls his eyes.

Erik stretches, all the way from his shoulders to his toes. _Bastard_ , Charles thinks loudly, but it just makes Erik grin again.

"I like watching you swim. You look...I don't know. Strong. Competent. I'm not saying it right, but you know what I mean." Erik pauses. He looks thoughtful. "You know, all the time we've known each other, I never even knew you swam."

There's the slight hesitation in his voice that means he knows he's approaching the edge of something serious, and doesn't want to get it wrong. 

Charles smiles at him, to let him know it's okay, and then answers the unspoken question. "I love swimming, yeah. It's been one of my favorite things, ever since the accident." 

That first time in the pool, during his rehabilitation--it had been one of the first times he had felt...not normal, no, but like there was a faint possibility he might not be so miserable forever. One of the first times he managed to glimpse something else past all the things that were gone or that he couldn't do anymore. 

Charles continues, "There's kind of a freedom to the water, I guess."

He shrugs off the words like they're not important, but Erik just nods. 

"So are you going to come in the water with me or not?" Charles says lightly.

Erik hums in consideration. "I don't think so. I told you, I'm kind of enjoying the view."

"You might regret that once we're back at your house and it's boiling every day," Charles points out.

"I doubt it," Erik says.

"Suit yourself."

Charles returns to his swimming, doing his best to pretend that Erik's appreciative gaze isn't affecting him at all. He doubts Erik is fooled, but you never know. Erik can be pretty blind to the obvious sometimes, as Charles has reason to know better than anybody.

"I changed my mind," Erik calls out, the next time Charles stops for a break.

"Oh, yeah?" Charles says. "Are you going to take a dip?"

"Nope," Erik says. He rubs his hand slowly across his stomach. Fuck, Charles really does love Erik's hands. "I think you should come join me instead."

Charles isn't sure what exactly possesses him, but something contrary and amused and--well, sexy really--rises up in his chest. "Hmm," Charles says, biting his lip as if he's considering the idea carefully, "no, I think I'll pass. Keep swimming for a while."

The dumbstruck look on Erik's face is absolutely delightful.

He purposely turns away from Erik, doing a few more laps at a more leisurely pace. He can feel Erik staring at him, still, and feel Erik's mind turning over as he thinks about Charles playing coy. Charles slows once he hits the opposite end of the pool for the third time and grabs a pool noodle, tucking it under his arms and floating back towards Erik. Erik is still staring at him.

"Is this what we're doing today?" Erik asks. He's drumming his fingers on his stomach. Low on his stomach. And he's smiling like he likes the idea. And the way his swimsuit is tenting seems to confirm.

Charles smiles slowly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," he says sweetly, and grabs another noodle, rearranging them around him until he's floating on his back. He can't see Erik any longer, but he knows Erik is still watching him. He strokes his fingers from his sternum down to his belly button a few times, trying to look casual, then stretches his arms over his head, floating for another few minutes, soaking up the sun.

Eventually, he realizes that Erik's stare isn't the only thing heating him up--it's time to apply more sunscreen if he doesn't want to end up a lobster. That is...definitely going to add an interesting element to the game they're apparently playing.

He gets himself out of the pool and into his wheelchair and then back over to the lounger. He picks up the bottle of sunscreen and squirts some into his hand and, perhaps, applies it in a slightly more seductive fashion than he normally would. He allows his touches to linger against his body, and when he's halfway up his torso, he glances over at Erik as casually as he can manage.

Erik is definitely watching him. Erik is definitely enjoying the show. Erik is definitely at least half hard, just from watching him.

Charles is definitely more than a little turned on himself.

When he finishes his arms and legs and face and chest and stomach, he holds the bottle out to Erik.

"Can you do my back?" he asks. Casual. That's the word of the day. He thinks he does a good job of saying it without giving anything away. He doesn't flinch when, after a long beat, Erik takes the bottle from him, their hands brushing.

"Sure," Erik says. 

Charles watches from the corner of his eye as Erik stands up and walks around to Charles' other side. For a moment, his dick is just at Charles' eye level. Looking anywhere else is difficult.

Erik squeezes some of the sunscreen into his hand and caresses the bottle in a totally over the top and unnecessary way before putting it down.

Then he begins to apply the cream and brings "over the top" and "unnecessary" to a whole new level.

Erik's touch is deliberate and lingering, his fingertips digging into Charles' muscles and sweeping into Charles' erogenous zones. He doesn't quite stick to Charles' back either, curling his fingers around Charles' sensitive sides and up under his arms, his fingers splayed out so that his fingertips are just shy of brushing against Charles' nipples.

Charles swallows a gasp and tries to keep from trembling. 

Erik rubs up and down his back methodically, kneeling on the end of the lounge chair, so close that Charles can feel his body heat and knows that if he leaned back, he could also feel Erik's erection. His fingers sweep just below the waistline of Charles' swimshorts, brushing the top of his ass. With one final flourish, he rubs his hands down Charles' back one more time, this time curling them back around to the front so he ends with his fingers tucked just beneath the elastic of the front of Charles' swimsuit, pushing down below his navel.

Charles is breathing heavily when Erik steps back.

"I think you should be good," Erik says. He's not very good at sounding innocent, especially when he's a little smug and his voice is down in the low register it gets when he's turned on.

It's possible Charles could have thought it over a bit more before starting this tease. After all, he knows that Erik jumps into things with all his energy, especially ideas Charles comes up with. And he's insanely competitive--if he's in it, he's in it to win.

That said, Charles has a secret weapon that he doesn't think Erik has fully considered, and that is _practice_. By this point, Charles is probably the world's foremost expert in tamping down his lust and not jumping Erik, not matter how much he might want to. He had literally years of experience in it before they started dating. This is very different, admittedly, but surely those same skills will still serve him here?

Once Charles thinks he's gotten his breathing reasonably under control, he arranges himself on the lounger, lying down on his belly.

"I think I'll read for a bit," Charles says, turning his head to smile at Erik. "Do you mind fetching my tablet, darling?"

Erik is still standing there, still watching Charles just as intensely. "Sure," he says, and without looking away, waves a hand to summon the iPad from the rest of the stuff they'd brought this morning and left atop the deck table.

"Thank you," Charles says, taking it gratefully. "And perhaps some snacks from inside as well? I'm getting a bit peckish."

"I bet," Erik says, somehow looking amused and suspicious simultaneously. He goes, though, giving Charles another chance to admire his body from behind, and after a few minutes returns with a bag of pretzels.

As sexy foods go, it might not be on the top of the list, but Charles can make do. 

It's not as though Charles isn't completely and utterly aware of how absolutely ridiculous he's being. Holding a pretzel between his forefinger and thumb while he sucks on it absently, before popping it into his mouth; licking the salt ostentatiously off his fingers after each one, and licking his lips too much as well--it is _so_ dumb. Under normal circumstances, he knows it would feel completely unsexy, too, just trying too hard. But stupid as this is, he knows Erik, and he knows how to push Erik's buttons, especially when he's already worked up.

"Delicious," Charles says finally, setting the bag on the ground beside the lounger. He turns his head back toward Erik for the first time in a few minutes, mouth open to continue, except--Erik isn't even _looking_ at him. 

What the fuck?

Not only is Erik not looking at him, but Erik's eyes are _closed_. His head is thrown back, and one of his knees is drawn up, which somehow manages to highlight his erection even more. His hand's on his chest again, and as Charles watches, it slowly drifts down his stomach.

"Erik," Charles says.

"Mmm," Erik says. It's somewhere between a grunt and a groan, and soft enough that Charles can only barely hear it. 

" _Erik_ ," Charles repeats. 

"Yes, Charles?" Erik says. His fingers drift down even further, hovering in the air an inch above the bulging fabric.

Charles licks his lips. "I--I think Raven's home."

"What?" Erik's voice is as close to a squeak as Charles has ever heard it and he bolts upright.

It hadn't been what Charles intended to say, but it was the truth--Raven had just abruptly wandered into his psychic net. Well, maybe not abruptly. She clearly left school, drove home, and walked into the house, unless she spontaneously developed a second teleportation mutation.

"She's coming through the house, she'll be out here in a minute," Charles says quickly. Erik looks for a long moment like a deer in headlights and then he abruptly rolls over onto his stomach, just as Raven comes out onto the pool deck. 

"I'm done!" Raven cheers as she skips outside. "Finished! Completely finished! I have a rehearsal on Monday and then it's just graduation on Tuesday and I never have to go back there!"

"Great," Charles says, forcing a smile and trying to calm down his raging hormones. "That's wonderful, congratulations!"

"Let's go out to dinner!" Raven says. "Let's go to that place with the good potatoes! Let's--" She pauses. "What's wrong with you guys?"

"Nothing," Charles says serenely. He smiles and glances at Erik, whose expression is frozen somewhere between horrified and mortified. 

"Nothing!" Erik echoes, but his voice is definitely higher than normal.

"I don't want to know," Raven says, raising both her hands. "It's one o'clock, I want to leave for dinner at five, I'm going to lock myself in my room and pretend I have no idea why Erik is making that face." She glares at them both as she backs off of the pool deck and goes back into the house. Charles feels guilty for half a minute--she's still really upset about Angel, after all, and he and Erik have honestly been trying not to rub their relationship in her face for the past few days. Charles thinks their sex chicken kind of botched her triumphant moment.

But, it really only takes about thirty seconds for all those thoughts to exit his head in a rush, chased out by the lingering thrill of arousal. He waits until he's sure Raven is, in fact, headed towards her room, and then turns to look at Erik again.

Erik is still on his stomach, staring out at the entrance to the house like he's afraid Raven is going to suddenly appear again.

"It's okay," Charles says. "She's gone."

Erik groans. "Oh my god." He pushes himself up and moves to sit on the edge of the chair, feet on the ground. 

Charles moves, too, shifting himself onto his back. "Hey, come here," he says, reaching his hand out toward Erik.

Erik shoots him a wary look, but he does it, anyway, allowing Charles to pull him over and on top of Charles' body.

"That was horrifying," Erik tells Charles, gazing down at him with wide eyes. "Like, seriously. Oh my _god._ "

Charles hums and runs his hands up and down Erik's arms, shoulders to wrists and back again. "It was...unfortunate," he admits. "But it was fun, too, wasn't it, right up until Raven got home?"

"Other than that, Mrs. Lincoln, how was the play?" Erik mutters, because if there is a situation in which he can be overdramatic, Erik will always take the opportunity. But however mortified Erik might have been, his arousal doesn't seem to have faded any more than Charles' has, his cock still stiff where it's pressed between them. And after a second he lowers his face the few inches separating them, meeting Charles in a long, slow kiss. 

"It was fun," Erik says, when the kiss ends. "I wouldn't have thought it would be. I would have thought it would just be--I don't know, frustrating. Annoying. But it was really hot, stretching it out like that."

Charles grins and leans up a little to kiss him again.

"Admit it," Charles says a minute later, "you were getting impatient. Another few minutes and you were totally going to crack."

Erik laughs as he sits up, straddling Charles' waist. Charles loves this position, he always has, getting to stare up at the lean length of Erik's body, the way his hands fit so perfectly on Erik's hips or thighs. "Are you crazy? You were literally just about to give in. Ten more seconds and I would have won."

"We'll have to call it a draw," Charles says. 

"Whatever you need to tell yourself, Xavier," Erik says, shaking his head fondly, though he stops suddenly and sucks in a breath as Charles moves his hand to cup Erik's hard cock through the fabric.

"Do you want to go back to your room?" Erik suggests softly.

"Not yet. My room's a lot closer to Raven than we are now, if you're worried about that." It's pretty obvious that Erik is worried about that. "And since she's done with school now, this is probably the last chance we'll have to do it anywhere _but_ my room here."

Erik hesitates a second. "You're sure she won't come back."

"I'm sure," Charles says. "Although, um, I also--I bet I could do it really fast. Get you off with my mouth." It's dumb that saying that makes him blush a little, after everything else going on. But it's true, too, and for that matter, it's something Charles is kind of really proud of.

Erik choke-laughs and says, "Yeah, I don't think that's going to be a problem," and Charles grins.

Draw, schmaw. Charles totally won this game.

Erik practically trips over himself scrambling off of Charles. The way his dick springs out as he pulls down his trunks is kind of funny but really hot, too--he's so hard, so big, so...everything.

"Careful," Charles says, "you could put my eye out with that thing."

"You're such a dork," Erik says, but he doesn't sound very convincing with his voice like that. He starts to climb back on top of the lounger, but Charles stops him with a hand on his hip. Erik's dick is already at exactly the right level like this, so Charles just has to lean forward and open his mouth.

Charles really, really likes giving Erik head. He likes everything they do together, everything they've tried, but giving Erik blowjobs--it's definitely near the top of the list, if not the very best. It was good when they were still using condoms, but even better like this, the taste and feel of warm skin and salt and a faint bitterness instead of latex. 

Erik's taste is stronger than usual today, actually. All that time watching Charles and thinking and not touching have worked him up, and he's leaking significantly more than he normally is when Charles first gets his mouth on him. His hips are shaky beneath Charles' palms, too, as he tries not to thrust. His hands are gripping Charles' shoulders tightly.

Charles can't quite take him all in. He's only really been able to manage that once, the time at school when they tried it with him on his back with his head hanging off the edge of the bed and Erik in front of him. That had been kind of weird, honestly--the clear path down his throat was cool, but being upside down was fairly unnerving. 

But Charles can still take a lot of Erik, and he's got his hands to help with what's left, and he feels in control like this, totally in charge, and it's a good feeling. 

He can tell how close Erik is already, even though they just started. All that time teasing has him right at the edge. 

_Don't try to hold back_ , Charles tells him, sucking harder. _We're trying to make it fast, remember?_

Erik makes a noise, rough and desperate. His nails are digging into Charles' skin and Charles can see a sheen of sweat on his body. Everything about his body is tight, his muscles curled and straining for release, and when Charles dips into his mind, the lust is almost enough to knock him back.

He moves his mouth faster, rougher, tighter, and jerks his hand in the same rhythm. One of Erik's hands abandons Charles' shoulder to slip into his hair, his fingers curling tightly together, tugging Charles' hair in his fist. That's all the warning Charles gets before Erik is coming abruptly in his mouth, quick enough that he almost chokes. He would feel like an idiot, the way some of Erik's come dribbles out of his mouth and down his face when Erik pulls out, except the look on Erik's face is incredible--dazed, flushed, and something like shocked. He lets go of Charles and steps back on trembling legs. Charles raises a hand to wipe his mouth, and suddenly Erik's eyes are on him again, wide and aware.

Erik pushes Charles back into a reclining position and grabs his hand, licking off the remnants of semen streaked on the side. It really shouldn't be as hot as it is, but Charles is dizzy from how turned on he is, and with Erik hovering over him again, crawling into his lap, he can't concentrate on anything but the feeling of Erik's skin against his, Erik's tongue against him.

Erik leans down and kisses Charles deeply, but breaks it off before Charles can respond, immediately latching his mouth on to the most sensitive part of Charles' neck. His already frayed nerves jump to life--every part of him is at attention, especially the places where he's desperate for Erik's mouth and hands. Erik's kisses are definitely going to leave marks on his throat and his shoulders, but it's Erik's fingers roughly grinding against his nipples rapidly back and forth that sends him over the edge, gasping his orgasm wordlessly on the quiet pool deck.

They're quiet for a few minutes then, both of them panting and then, eventually, kissing messily. Charles is pretty sure he broke his own personal record in how fast he made Erik come, but to be fair, it's not as though his orgasm didn't hit almost as quickly. 

They do retreat back to Charles' room after that, and if they're maybe still a little distracted by cuddling on Charles' bed and making out in the shower when Charles goes in to rinse off the chlorine--well, by five o'clock, they're clean, dressed, and totally respectable, fit for the eyes of the public and little sisters.


	4. Erik

Charles makes them spend the weekend with Raven, mostly doing the sort of things she wants to do. Erik doesn't mind too much--it keeps them out of the house, and when they're in the house, they're mostly in this big library/television room that Raven and Charles seem to have taken over. It's still got the dark wood paneling and expensive looking fixtures of the rest of the house, but the furniture is really comfortable and it's decorated with posters and drawings and photos more in line with Charles and Raven's tastes. There's even a micro-fridge stocked with juice and soda and a bookshelf that's been cleared of books and filled with snacks.

"We try to avoid the rest of the house as much as we can when Mother and Kurt are home," Charles tells him one afternoon when he catches Erik inspecting a case of EasyMac on the floor. "It's easiest to do that when we don't have to go to the main kitchen for provisions."

Erik can understand that. The rest of the house still makes him feel uncomfortable, like he's not supposed to be there. Even though Charles has assured him that the rest of the staff ( _staff_!) are traveling with his parents and that the housekeeper who pops in weekly likes Charles and Raven far more than their parents, he still keeps looking over his shoulder when he finds himself in one of the foreboding, ornate rooms outside of Charles and Raven's corner of the house.

Tuesday morning, while Raven's at her graduation ceremony rehearsal, he's in a new one. At least, he thinks it's new. It's hard to keep track. It's some sort of sitting room with fine white couches (Emma would love them) and thick rugs. All of the wood is intricately carved and even the wallpaper seems expensive. Charles is futzing with a safe in the desk, a slight detour from their trip to the kitchen, something he wanted to grab before he forgot. Erik is trying not to leave smudgy fingerprints on anything when a photo tableau on the wall catches his eye. 

He crosses the room to investigate, already frowning. These photos are nothing like the ones hanging in Raven and Charles' den. Those are all candids and selfies, silly pictures of them and their friends. Erik features in a fair few, pictures spanning all the way back to the start of freshman year hanging along with pictures of Charles and his high school friends and Raven with all kinds of people he doesn't know. (There are also, he noticed, some suspiciously empty spots that he would bet involved Raven's ex.) The photos on the wall here are all framed. They're hung level and exact, sterile school portraits of three children underneath a large wedding portrait and a large family portrait.

Charles looks enough like his mom that Erik can recognize her immediately. The man in the wedding photo with her looks mean even there, dressed in a suit and standing next to Charles' gorgeous mother. He thinks of his own parents' wedding pictures--they're young and smiling and pleased in almost all of them, all gooey-eyed as they look at each other. There's none of that affection here, not that Erik would expect it, given Charles' stories about his parents. 

The pictures of the family and children make him pause, though. There's Charles, of course, ruddy-cheeked and smiling in his school picture. It's his senior portrait and he's wearing one of those dumb fake tuxes, but he still looks ultimately like Charles. On the other end is another boy with reddish hair and a steely glare for the camera. He's not wearing a fake tux in his photo, but rather a school uniform that Erik doesn't recognize. He's big, it's easy to see that even just from the shoulders up, and Erik deduces it must be Cain.

That leaves the girl in the middle, and Erik, for the life of him, can't figure out who she is. It should, logically, be Raven, but the girl in the photo is blonde and fair. She's pretty enough, but she's clearly a stranger, except that she's in the family photo too, all three children sitting blank-faced in front of Charles' parents. It has to be Raven. But it's definitely not Raven.

Before he can say anything about it, Charles reaches out and touches his hand. He must have been lost in thought--normally he notices when Charles' wheelchair approaches him.

"That's Raven, yes," Charles says. "Her father and my mother, ah, prefer that she look like that in front of them."

It takes a moment for that to fully sink in, but as it does the anger rises up thick in his chest. "What?" he says flatly.

Charles is gazing up at the photos, a faint frown on his face. "You already knew they're not particularly nice people."

"It's fucked up," Erik says, bristling. 

"I'm not exactly going to argue with you about that," Charles says drily. He strokes his fingers across the back of Erik's hand. "When we were little, she was like that pretty much all the time. I think the first year I knew her I only saw her real skin twice. But then as we grew up, you know, she got more confident, more comfortable with herself--and I manifested, too, obviously, which I think helped."

In one of Erik's classes last year they read an article comparing experiences of young mutants who had physical mutations manifesting at birth versus the majority whose powers showed up in late childhood and adolescence. Erik doesn't remember it that well; he's always been more interested in the commonalities uniting mutants than in their differences. He wishes now he had retained a bit more.

 _She came to dinner once, when we were 14 and 15_ , Charles says, reverting to his mental voice, _and my mother sent her back to her room to change, the same way she did to Cain when he showed up in a T-shirt._

"She should have told them to fuck off."

"Yes, well, we all know you're the type who will throw himself against a brick wall until one or both of you collapses." Charles sounds faintly annoyed at Erik, which doesn't really make sense. "Same people prefer to save themselves the concussion and take the path around instead." He shakes his head. "Anyway. I found the papers I was looking for. Let's get out of here, all right?"

Erik is more than willing to follow Charles out of the room. The rest of the house isn't much better, but at least he doesn't have to see that watered down version of Raven anymore

Charles is right in that Erik already knew his and Raven's parents were assholes, but it seems like Erik keeps finding new stuff that makes him hate them even more. As nice as it's been to have time alone with Charles, Erik is really relieved that they're heading back home the day after tomorrow. They'll be back in a house that actually feels like a house and not a creepy palace, _plus_ there will be Erik's family, who, whatever faults they might have, appreciate Charles like sane people.

Raven gets home around lunch time and they spend the rest of the day laying out by the pool. Erik studies Raven critically behind his sunglasses, trying to imagine her as the pretty blonde girl. He tries, too, imagining her as cowed, as hiding from her parents, as giving into human ideals. He can't quite picture it--he doesn't know Raven as well as Charles, of course, but he did spend a week with her last year and she was outspoken and obstinate and didn't take shit from anyone.

Then again, his mom always says that people change a lot when they go to college. _He_ hasn't changed much, but that's just because he was really mature when he was in high school. Way more mature than most of the idiots he went to school with.

He wants to talk to Raven about it, but he's not sure how to bring it up. Charles is always telling him he needs to think before he talks, but Charles says a lot of things and Erik loves him, but he doesn't always agree with him. Still, this might be an instance where what Charles says has some merit.

When the sun starts to set, Raven suggests they bring out the firepit and Charles happily agrees. He leaves Raven and Erik to arrange things and disappears inside for more snacks and the bottles of champagne Erik knows he's been saving for this week. Raven leads the way over towards the supply shed, and Erik turns over a few openings in his head as he follows her.

In the end, he just says, "You can just look like this all the time at Claremont, you know. No one will care."

She stops just outside of the supply shed and slowly turns to look at him.

"I know," she says, one eyebrow raised. Charles can do that too, raise just one eyebrow. He wonders if they both ended up with the same genetic quirk or if it's something she picked up from him. When Charles does it, Erik mostly wants to either shake him or jump him or some combination of the two. With Raven doing it, Erik gets the distinct impression she's humoring him. "That's kind of the plan. It's why I chose to go to a mutant-heavy school. I'm guessing Charles showed you some childhood photos?"

"No," Erik says, "but you should definitely show me some of those later." He _knows_ Ruth showed Charles pictures of him as a kid. "Charles was...getting something, I don't know, in one of those fancy rooms and I saw like...the family portrait."

"Oh," Raven says. She shrugs. "Yeah. I mean, that's part of the reason I want to get out of here. It's exhausting not being able to be myself all the time."

"Why don't you just do it anyway?" Erik asks. "It's your body. Fuck what they think."

Raven rolls her eyes at him, like he's not way older and wiser than she is. 

"They're my _parents_ ," Raven says. "I like not living on the street and having food and clothing and a life, thanks. What do you think would happen if I told my dad, 'Fuck it, I'm doing what I want?' I'm sure Charles told you what he's like." 

He has. But still....

"You should be able to be yourself," Erik says.

"That's why I'm going away to college," Raven says. "Far away from him and Sharon and Cain, with people who will let me be myself, like you and Charles."

This conversation isn't going the way Erik planned at all.

"I just..." He spreads his hands out between them, helplessly. "You're like, pretty. And really hot. I mean, if I was into girls, but I'm not and I'm in love with your brother. But like...objectively. And you should get to own that."

Raven gives him a crooked smile.

"Thanks, Erik," she says. "And I will." 

She turns away from him and opens the supply shed and Erik can't help but think that the conversation crashed and burned entirely. She makes him use his powers to move the firepit closer to the pool deck, then loads his arms up with wood. She takes some kindling and matches and a lighter and follows him back towards where Charles is waiting for them.

Erik arranges the wood according to Raven's exacting instructions, and then backs out of the way so she can light it herself. The chair Charles is sitting in is really only meant for one person, Erik is pretty sure, but there's enough room for Erik to fit, too, since neither of them minds if Charles technically ends up halfway on Erik's lap. Charles has already poured them each some champagne, and he hands Erik a fancy-looking glass from the table along with one for himself.

Raven lets out a loud "Ha!" of satisfaction as the fire catches ablaze. She stands up, brushing her hands off on her skirt, and crosses the desk to grab her own glass and plop down on the chair on the opposite side of the table.

"Shall we toast, then?" Charles says. 

"Might as well," Raven agrees cheerfully.

Charles raises his glass. "To Raven, my beloved sister and my oldest friend."

"To Raven," Erik echoes. "And to finishing up something that sucks and getting ready to start something awesome instead."

Raven laughs. "Okay, then, sure. To me!"

They all wave their glasses vaguely in the air, and then drink. Erik doesn't know if he likes champagne or not, honestly--he's only really had it at New Year's, and at his cousin's wedding once when he was eighteen. Left to his own devices, he usually drinks beer, or liquor when they can get ahold of it. But it's not bad, he guesses, and the sensation of the bubbles just feels inherently celebratory somehow. 

He does wonder how exponentially more expensive this bottle must be, compared to the New Year's party stuff. But the thought makes him feel weird again, just like walking through the main hall of the house does, so he pushes it away.

"Hey, Erik," Raven says, stretching out her legs in front of her and crossing them delicately at the ankle. "Has Charles ever told you about the first time he got drunk?"

"I'm sure I have," Charles says, which is bullshit, because Charles doesn't remember things wrong, it's part of his whole extra brain powers thing. 

Erik gives him a look. "No, actually, I think I would remember that."

"It was the Christmas he was thirteen and I was twelve," Raven says, "and Dad and Sharon were having this massive gross party with all the people they hate but suck up to anyway, right? They brought us out in the evening for like five minutes to make us look nice in front of everybody, but the rest of the night we had to stay out of the way."

"Which was a relief, you can imagine," Charles says lightly.

Erik tightens his grip around Charles' shoulders. If he turned his head a little bit more his nose would be in Charles' hair, but if he starts sniffing Charles' hair he's pretty sure that either Raven will make fun of them, or he won't be able to resist kissing the spot behind his ear and down his jaw, or--and this is the most likely outcome--both of those things.

"Anyway," Raven continues, "when they sent us away, Charles smuggled away one of the bottles of champagne away to our den and demolished it while watching _A Charlie Brown Christmas_ with me. He wouldn't share, either, because I was 'too young.'" 

Raven makes quotation marks in the air on the last words, which is a little tricky, since she's still holding her glass.

"You _were_ too young!" Charles says. 

"So were you!" Raven retorts.

"And I learned my lesson, didn't I?" Charles sighs. "I got very drunk, I threw up everywhere, the poor maids had to clean it all up, and the next day I had a nasty hangover which Cain somehow deduced and proceeded to exploit. Is there anything else you'd like to add, Raven?"

"You don't have to take all the fun out of the story, Charles," she says, rolling her eyes.

"I've never seen you hungover," Erik says to Charles. Charles has seen Erik hungover plenty of times, of course, but Charles is always fairly functional the next day, and not above being smug about Erik's misery. 

"I know my limits," Charles says. "A telepathic hangover is no joke."

Thirteen, Erik thinks. That would have been the first Christmas after Charles got out of the hospital, wouldn't it? He slips his fingertips under the hem of Charles' shirt, where Raven can't see, stroking along Charles' side. Not sexy touching, just...touching.

"The first time I got drunk," Erik muses, "was, um--okay, so I didn't go to a lot of parties in high school, right, because...everyone at my high school was a jerk, mostly. But I went to one out in the woods once and this boy I maybe had kind of a crush on was there, and we headed off from everybody else and drank some beers and made out a little bit."

Charles is looking up at him curiously. "I thought you didn't date in high school?" he murmurs.

"I didn't?" Erik says. "We, like, kissed for ten minutes and then he got paranoid that his girlfriend was going to notice he was gone, so. I went home and decided he was too dumb to waste time on anymore." He also learned to be more circumspect about sneaking out. When he got home that night, his dad was waiting for him in the kitchen. He gave Erik a quick talk about drinking responsibly--which, Erik's not dumb, and he wasn't then either, he hadn't like, driven his car or anything--and then sent him off to bed. On the plus side, as far as Erik can tell, he never told Mom about it, so....

"It's hard to imagine you dating someone in the closet," Charles agrees. "I feel like that would interfere with you being...you."

"Yeah, it really cramps my style," Erik agrees. 

"Well, you're kind of in the closet, Charles," Raven says, gesturing at Charles with her glass. 

Charles snorts and Erik can't help but laugh, too.

"I'm really not," Charles says.

"Yeah," Erik says. "Did you see what happened when he posted it on Facebook? Like, fucking strangers were coming up to me to tell me how happy they were for us. It was weird." He directs his gaze to Charles. "How do you know so many people?"

"I'm friendly and polite," Charles says. "You could know that many people too if you were less aggressively condescending."

Erik rolls his eyes.

"I don't want to know that many people," he says firmly.

"I'm not talking about school," Raven says. She's waving her hand back and forth to recapture their attention. "I mean like...Dad and Sharon don't know."

Charles shrugs.

"Well, they've never asked," he says. "If they did, I'd tell them. It's not a secret. But I don't speak to them unless I have to and...well, what does it matter if they know? They're not important."

That's just one more reason why Charles should skip coming back here and just spend their school breaks with Erik. Erik's family is important and they do know and they love him and they're excited to see him. They _like_ that Charles is dating Erik. They care about Charles and Erik's relationship.

Raven aside, Charles really got dealt a crappy hand when it comes to family stuff. Thankfully, Erik has enough family to share.

Raven seems...well, Erik's not always great at reading people, but she looks either angry or confused. Or maybe both. He's not sure why. Everything Charles said makes perfect sense to Erik. 

Charles must be able to sense her unease, though, because he adds, "They have little to no say over my life at this point. I get my trust fund in a year. School is paid for through my father's endowment. Kurt gave up hitting me after the accident--" Erik's stomach drops out at that. He's always sort of assumed, but to hear Charles say it out loud.... "--so the worst they can do is...what? Shout at me? My mother hasn't had the energy to shout about anything in years and your father already shouts about everything all the time anyway. I'm used to it." He shrugs again.

Erik watches Raven. She's staring at the fire, now, not saying anything else. The silence stretches out and starts to make Erik itchy so he grapples for something, anything, to shrug off that feeling.

"Did you make your schedule yet?" he asks her.

"I started," she says, looking up at him. "Freshman don't register until the end of the month, but I have, like, a wishlist."

"Awesome," Erik says. "What's on it?"

Raven outlines her wishlist with a little more enthusiasm, and Erik gives her pointers on the best professors to take different courses with. They talk a little about clubs after that, and then dorms and all sorts of other crap until long after the champagne is gone and the fire is starting to go out. Charles keeps nodding off on Erik's shoulder, and eventually Raven starts to yawn too.

"I think it has to be bedtime for me," Charles says, blinking blurrily up at Erik. He's really fucking cute when he's tired. "I'm going to take a shower first or else the entire bed is going to smell like smoke."

"That'd be hot," Erik says. He smirks. "Get it?"

"Oh my god, go away," Charles says, though he's the one who extricates himself from under Erik and moves back to his wheelchair. "I'll meet you upstairs?"

"Yeah, I'll help clean up," Erik says. He kisses Charles before he goes and, admittedly, he does kind of like the smokey smell, but he likes the smell of freshly showered Charles, too, so....

He watches Charles head back into the house and turns his attention to Raven, who's poking at the dying embers of the fire. He gets up and sits back down next to her. He feels like he should say something--no, he definitely should. Raven's been kind of off since the conversation about Charles coming out to her parents, or maybe since Charles bristled when she was telling the story about the first time he got drunk. He likes Raven a lot and he wants to be her friend, but sometimes trying to figure out what to say to her and, specifically, want to say to her that won't piss Charles off, is hard.

Raven solves the problem by speaking first.

"Are you out to your parents?" she asks. Erik nods.

"Everyone said they knew I was gay practically forever," he tells her. "Since like, I was a little kid. But once I figured out what the word for it was, I told everyone at dinner. Probably like, the least shocking coming out ever."

Raven nods and pokes at the fire again, not looking up.

"But," he continues, "my parents are pretty cool, for parents. They never cared. And obviously they've practically adopted Charles so...I don't know, it's really different. I mean, everything about them is really different than it is here."

"Yeah," Raven says. She sighs. "It sucks here."

"It kind of does," Erik agrees. He lies back on the lounger and stares up at the sky. It's still not totally dark, but the stars are coming out already. He can see more of them here than he can at home, but not quite as many as they see at school once they leave town and head out into the woods and farmland.

"I just don't want to lie," Raven says. "I want to be myself. I want to be myself all the time, to everyone, including my parents."

"I don't think it's really lying," Erik says, his eyes tracing the constellations he remembers from one summer at the JCC's overnight camp out by the college. "I think there's a difference between like..." He turns the thought over in his head a little. "Like, okay, look at Charles. He's just...Charles. He dresses kind of like a dork and he's mostly into sciencey things and he's interested in politics and stuff but more like...academically, I guess. He doesn't really go to protests or wear buttons about issues or whatever. But he's still queer and he's still a mutant and if anyone asks him, he doesn't like, deny it or try to hide it. He's just more interested in being him than he is in being a mutant or being bi or whatever. Then, like, I'm really...political and stuff. And I go to rallies and mutant shows and festivals and things like that and I'm really loud about it, but mostly just because that's the sort of stuff I like? But I'm Jewish, too, but I'm not religious or anything and I'm not a part of Hillel and I'm not super interested in Jewish politics the way I am in mutant politics. But that doesn't make me less Jewish and it doesn't make me like...ashamed of being Jewish."

He frowns. Maybe he's muddying this up. Maybe none of it makes sense. Maybe he's talking in circles.

"I guess," he says, "what I'm saying is that like...you should do the things you like because you like them, not because you think you're not being yourself if you're not always shouting out every part of your personality."

It's funny, when he puts it like that. Because...well, maybe he did think it was important to shout all those things out all the time before. He does like them--mutant politics and queer politics--and he does think it's super important that mutants not be quiet on mutant issues and that there's visibility out there, but he also doesn't think Charles is any less of a mutant for not doing those things.

Huh.

"Hm," Raven says. She looks unconvinced, like she doesn't quite appreciate how deep Erik just got, but at least she looks thoughtful. "I don't know," she continues after a couple seconds. "It just feels like...it shouldn't be this hard."

If Erik was a little more sober or a little more drunk, he would try again, different words or louder tone or more gestures. But he's right in that sweet spot of slightly tipsy where all his ideas are ever so slightly slippery. And he feels mellow, and sleepy, and Charles is waiting for him upstairs in his bed.

He can talk to her about it more later, anyway. She's going to be around all the time next year--which is going to be _awesome_. Erik can tell already.

"You're awesome," Erik tells her. "You know that, right?"

Raven looks up from the fire, the corners of her mouth quirking up a little. "Yeah, you've told me before."

Erik shrugs. "Just making sure."

They finish cleaning up the deck and head inside, both of them pretty quiet. Erik's still rolling over the stuff they talked about, and he thinks Raven probably is, too.

They split up in the upstairs hallway in front of Raven's room.

"Goodnight, dork," Raven says. "Keep it down, okay?"

Erik is pretty sure that's a joke--these walls are super thick, and Charles has assured him that they'd absorb any noise they make.

Raven hesitates a second with her hand on her doorknob, and then she darts forward and gives Erik a quick hug. She's gone again before Erik can reciprocate, in her room and shutting the door behind her.

Charles is in bed already when Erik reaches his room. The room's lit by the bedside lamp on its lowest setting. Erik strips down to his underwear and climbs onto the huge mattress, careful not to disturb Charles' careful arrangement of pillows, and lies next to him, reaching out his hand to rest across Charles' chest.

Charles smells like soap and fresh things. 

"Did you two have a good talk without me in the way?" Charles mumbles, half-asleep.

"It was okay," Erik tells him.

"Good," Charles says, yawning, and Erik can tell the moment his brain drifts down into slumber again. Erik inches closer, as close as he can manage to get, and buries his nose in Charles' hair, just like he's been tempted to do all night. It's wet and chilly from Charles' shower, but Erik doesn't care. Charles, still asleep, turns his head slightly, leaving them almost nose to nose, Charles' long, even breaths blowing across Erik's chest.

They'll be back home the day after tomorrow, and while Erik will miss the big bed and thick walls and endless hours lounging by the pool, he can't wait to put this place behind them.


	5. Charles

The lead up to Raven's graduation is rather anticlimactic. All three of them have breakfast together in the morning, then sit around listlessly channel surfing until later in the afternoon. Raven leaves to meet up with some friends and then head to the ceremony, but there are still over three hours until it starts. Charles double and triple checks that he's packed everything he needs, then lets Erik lure him into bed for one last loud and luxurious afternoon of sex before they're stuck spending the next two months back in a twin bed with Erik's parents and sister just upstairs. They still have plenty of time to get dressed and take a nice leisurely drive out to Raven's high school.

Once they're mingling in the auditorium, Charles discovers a secondary benefit to Erik visiting to see Raven graduate--getting to show Erik off to all the people he remembers from high school.

Erik is very attractive on a good day. Dressed neatly for Raven's graduation in tight slacks, a red and purple plaid shirt, and an honest to goodness bowtie, Charles is having a hard time not jumping him and can't help but feel more than a little smug every time someone's eyes widen a little when they look at him.

Erik is smart and passionate and loyal and strong, but he's also really, _really_ hot. Fuck.

"Am I like, your arm candy?" he asks after Charles has introduced him to half a dozen people.

"Yes," Charles says firmly. "You definitely are. Where in the world did you get a bowtie?"

Erik touches the knot of the tie and grins.

"D'you like it, then?" he asks. "I was looking for something nice to wear and I couldn't find a tie that matched this shirt so I ran out to Goodwill last week and saw this one and thought I'd try it. I'm kind of into this look, I think."

"I'm...very into that look," Charles admits. Erik's grin turns almost feral and definitely smug, but before he can say anything else, the lights in the auditorium flash and they make their way down the aisle to their seats.

The ceremony is long and boring, as expected. The valedictorian of Raven's class is a girl that Charles vaguely remembers from his own scholastic bowl days and her speech is entertaining but unremarkable. The principal's speech is both unentertaining and unremarkable in contrast, and commencement speaker, the CEO of some start-up that someone's mother works at, tries far too hard to be "hip." The perk of going to a private school, though, is that the class is relatively small, and before long they're hollering and cheering for Raven as she picks up her diploma and poses for a picture with the principal, blue and beaming and proud.

They take a million pictures once the ceremony is over--Charles and Raven, Charles and Raven and Erik, Raven and her friends--and then head out to dinner at Raven's favorite restaurant. After dinner, they head back to the house, but only for a few minutes. Raven's only stopping back home to grab her bag and change, then it's back to school to get on the bus for the lock-in party at someone's lake house for Project Graduation. This will be the last Charles sees her before he and Erik leave for Buffalo in the morning.

"I can't believe you've graduated," he says. "I can't believe you'll be at Claremont with us next year."

"Yeah, it's gonna be fucking awesome," Erik says. "Just wait. You'll basically already have an in with the coolest mutant social group on campus."

"Oh, did you tell them about me, then?" Raven asks, and Erik scowls at her, though it makes Charles laugh.

"Remember to call or email once in a while," Charles reminds her. "I know you're going to be off having adventures with all your friends all summer, but spare a thought for your worried older brother while you're living it up at the beach house, okay?"

"Whatever," Raven says, "like you're not going to be too busy sucking face with Erik to remember _me_."

"Hey," Erik says, but Charles and Raven both ignore him as they hug tightly. 

"Love you, be awesome, see you in two months," Raven says quietly, and then she's stepping away and skipping back to her car to head out on her own.

"You're going to be all sappy tonight, aren't you?" Erik says as her car drives away.

"Shut up," Charles says, but he can't help but smile.

"It's okay," Erik assures him, "I like you sappy. You're really hot when you're kind of teary-eyed."

Charles snorts. "You are aware of how creepy that sounds, right?" 

"It's a compliment!" Erik protests. "The tears, like, set off your eyes!"

"You're making it worse," Charles says, but he's laughing as he does it, and he tugs Erik down for a quick kiss anyway.

They go to bed relatively early that night, because Erik is determined to get on the road first thing in the morning. As it happens, they miss the planned departure time by forty minutes anyway, Erik practically vibrating with impatience as he hurries Charles along.

"Why does it matter what time we leave, though?" Charles asks as they leave the driveway. He understood Erik's impatience coming east, in a hurry to see each other again after their time apart, but it's not like they have to be at the Lehnsherrs' at any specific time. It doesn't make a difference if they leave at eight or noon.

"I want to beat the traffic," Erik says, sounding stubborn. 

Charles sips thoughtfully from his giant thermos of coffee. "You're quoting somebody, aren't you?"

"I mean, my mom _also_ appreciates the importance of getting a head start on trips and having it all planned out well," Erik says, "but that's because she's super smart and awesome and organized." He hesitates for a second, glancing over to Charles from the corner of his eye. "I'm also just--I mean, why stay here any longer than we have to, right?"

"Sure," Charles says, although honestly he thinks "getting to sleep in to a decent hour" is a pretty good reason. 

It doesn't matter, though, because Charles actually falls asleep once they hit the highway, and by the time he wakes up again an hour later he's feeling much more refreshed. He convinces Erik to stop a few times, food and coffee and rest stops, but they still reach the house before anybody else is home for the day from work or school.

Erik leads Charles back to the same room he had last year. It looks exactly the same, and entering it again makes a little stab of happy nostalgia rise up in Charles, which he wasn't quite expecting.

Erik sits down on the bed, hard enough to make it bounce a little. "I'm so glad you're here!" he says, grinning.

"That's good to know," Charles says. "You're usually so subtle with your emotions, it can be hard to tell."

Erik waves his hand, as if to shoo Charles' words away. "Do you want to put your shit away now, or just wait until later tonight?"

Doing it now is probably the more responsible choice, but lounging on the couch eating homemade peanut butter cookies is what wins out. They have on some terrible cartoon in the background, but neither of them pays much attention to it. For a while Erik lies with his head in Charles' lap and his computer propped up against the upside down v of his legs, reading posts out loud from the mutant blogs he follows and goading Charles into discussions or arguments about them. After a while, though, he sets the computer down on the coffee table, sitting up to drape himself over Charles and rest his head on Charles' shoulder. 

Charles turns his head enough that he can lean forward and kiss him, a soft, gentle thing. Erik's mouth opens in a sigh against his. Charles can feel his smile, and it makes him smile, too.

They separate, Erik's head lying back again on Charles' shoulder while Charles wraps his arms loosely around Erik's body, and Charles is just thinking about how nice it feels, how perfect, when they hear the door to the house open and Erik jumps a foot in the air.

"Shit," Erik says, running a hand through his hair. He's wide-eyed and blushing (and blushing isn't something Erik does often, either), and Charles stares at him in utter confusion.

"What--" he starts, but Mr. Lehnsherr appears in the doorway before he has time to finish forming the question.

"Boys! You're here! Did you have a good trip?" he asks. Charles almost doesn't hear, distracted as he is by Erik scrambling off his lap and as far away as possible, pressing into the opposite arm of the couch.

"It was...fine?" Charles says, staring at Erik. He raises one eyebrow. Erik is still blushing and not looking at him.

"It was good," Erik says. He looks at his father and, if anything, blushes further. "How, uh, was work?"

"Fine, fine," Mr. Lehnsherr says. He puts his briefcase down on an extra chair from the dining room that's sitting against the wall, then moves to sit in the armchair next to the couch. "Ruth should be home soon, then your mother thought it might be nice if we all went out to dinner to celebrate Charles' arrival. Nothing fancy, we'll save that for after the graduation next week, but maybe Annie's."

"You really don't have to do that," Charles insists, but Mr. Lehnsherr just waves him off.

"It's no trouble," he says. "And, really, you're doing us a favor. We've been so busy we haven't had a chance to really go grocery shopping this week. That'll be an assignment for you two tomorrow, I'd wager, but we'll wait until the boss gets home to see for sure. Erik, honestly, no one's going to yell at you for sitting next to your boyfriend on the couch."

"Oh my god," Erik says, covering his face with both of his hands.

"We'll make fun of you, sure, but that's just part of the family experience."

The kitchen door opens and closes before Erik can form a response or stop hiding behind his hands.

"I'm home!" Ruth calls out. "Erik's car is out front, does that mean--" She walks into the living room as she's talking and stops when she sees Charles, clapping her hands together happily. "Aaaahhhhhh you're here!" she says, and tackles Charles into a hug.

"I am!" Charles says. He hugs her tightly. "Congratulations!"

"Aw, thanks," Ruth says, letting go of Charles and dropping onto the couch between him and Erik. She's dressed in her cheerleading uniform and has copious amounts of glitter in her hair and thus stuck to her skin, clothes and now Charles as well. "I still have finals for the rest of the week. Then Monday is 'Fun Day' for yearbook signing and a cookout and Tuesday is rehearsal/cord and sash awarding and Wednesday is graduation proper." She flops back, her head lolling against the back of the couch. "I am _so_ busy and _so_ exhausted already. The junior class normally handles yearbook distribution but it turns out they missed an entire _page_ of the spreadsheet, so me and the senior class treasurer agreed to help them track those people down, plus tonight we had this traditional cheerleader passing-of-the-pom-poms party and the ice cream truck we had for the cookout next week backed out, so now we have to find another ice cream source and--once again!--the junior class should be handling this, but they're in a tizzy so they've got us helping to plan our own cookout...it's a nightmare, really. I can't wait to be graduated and _done_."

"It...sounds like a nightmare," Charles agrees. He knew, obliquely, from Ruth's Facebook page, that she was involved in a lot of activities, but it's an interesting contrast to Raven, who spent most of the time between finals and graduation by the pool with him and Erik or her friends.

"Anyway," Ruth says, sitting up and hugging him again. "I'm so glad you're here! This summer is going to be great! I'm gonna go change--we're going to Annie's tonight, right?"

"Right," Mr. Lehnsherr says from the armchair. He's smirking a little, settled back and watching Ruth and Charles and Erik like they're a television show. Mr. Lehnsherr, Charles thinks, possesses the patience of a saint and an endless sense of humor. As the center of calm in a family of loud, type-A go-getters, he'd have to.

"Great! I'll be back soon--Erik, why are you sitting so far away from Charles? Last summer when you _weren't_ dating you wouldn't allow more than a centimeter of space between the two of you."

If anything, Erik burrows further into himself.

Ruth disappears upstairs in a whirl of glitter and Mr. Lehnsherr gets to his feet. 

"I'm going to change my shoes," he says. "Don't get too frisky down here alone, boys, your mother will be home any second."

"Oh my _god_ ," Erik repeats, and Mr. Lehnsherr laughs as he follows Ruth up the stairs.

And then they're alone again.

"So...." Charles says.

"Shut up," Erik answers immediately, though he uncurls a bit from his cramped position.

"I'm pretty sure they're going to rib you way more for that than if they'd just found us cuddling."

"Shut up," Erik says again, this time groaning out the words. His blush has faded, his face approaching its normal color.

"It's just, you know," Charles continues innocently, "if you're going to maintain a five foot distance between us whenever your family is around, it's going to be a long summer."

He probably shouldn't be enjoying this as much as he is, but he can't help it. What they were doing was just _so_ innocent. And Ruth was right, too; the Lehnsherrs saw them just as physically affectionate or wrapped up in each other's space a million times when Charles was here last year.

Erik's trying to glare at him, but it's really more of a pout. "Don't you start, too. You're supposed to be on my side, not theirs."

"Aw, darling, you know I still love you best," Charles says.

"As long as you're not just using me for my family," Erik grumbles as he stands up. He's looking for his shoes, abandoned earlier under this coffee table. He has to cross close by to get them, and Charles reaches out to stroke his fingertips against the inside of Erik's wrist.

Erik gazes down at him.

"I do really like your family," Charles admits.

After a few seconds, Erik's face breaks out in a grin.

Charles is considering the wisdom of telling Erik what other characteristics he could theoretically be using Erik for--it might, he suspects, pass into the warned-against "frisky territory"--but the sounds of Mrs. Lehnsherr's arrival home decide for him. 

Erik crosses the room as soon as they hear the noises, so he's just inside the doorway when Mrs. Lehnsherr appears there, immediately wrapping him up in a hug.

"I was just gone for a week, Mom," Erik protests, but Charles doesn't miss the way he hugs his mother back just as hard. Erik's kind of an asshole a lot of the time and fiercely, weirdly independent when they're at school, but Charles learned last summer that he's also kind of a mama's boy.

"Still, it's good to see you," she says, and kisses his cheek. "Did you have a good trip?" She looks over Erik's shoulder and beams at Charles, who waves in response.

"Yeah, it was great," Erik says. 

"Did you give Raven the card?" she asks.

"I did," Erik says. Charles doesn't have to be able to see his face to know he's rolling his eyes. "She said thank you very much."

"Good," Mrs. Lehnsherr says. She releases Erik and crosses to the couch to hug Charles just as tightly. "I'm so happy you're here, Charles! It's lovely to have you. Like I said to Erik when he asked, you're always, always welcome here for as long as you'd like."

"Thank you," Charles says. "I'm really glad to be here."

Mrs. Lehnsherr moves to sit next to him on the couch, pausing to try and brush some of the glitter off the cushion.

"I see Ruth is home," she says, then sits and takes Charles' hands. "Let me know if there's anything you want or need. I'm going to send you boys to the grocery store tomorrow and to Target at some point to pick up some things we need, and please add anything you'd like for the house or for school in the fall to the cart and Erik will take care of it."

"I appreciate it, but that's really unnecessary, Mrs. Lehnsherr," Charles insists.

"It's Edie and Jake, Charles, you know that," she scolds him. "And you're one of ours for the summer. I would do the same for Erik and Ruth, ask them."

"I'm just happy to be here," Charles says demurely. In one year and three weeks, he'll have full access to over six billion dollars. He's not allowing the Lehnsherrs to buy him shampoo and Cheerios.

Mrs. Lehnsherr kisses his cheek and squeezes his hands one last time before climbing to her feet.

"You boys get ready. Erik, tell your sister we're leaving for dinner in ten minutes, okay?" she says. "We're going to--"

"Annie's," Erik says. "Dad said. So did Ruth."

"Okay, okay," she says. To Charles, she adds, "Annie's is a local place, but the food is excellent and the pies are the best I've ever had."

"I'm sure it will be wonderful," Charles says. "Considering how good your pies are, I imagine anyplace you rate that highly will be fantastic."

"You're very sweet, Charles," she says, and squeezes her shoulder. She turns to leave, then pauses to brush more glitter off of herself and shake her head. Charles gets the impression that Ruth's glitter cloud must be a regular occurrence. With that, Mrs. Lehnsherr disappears up the stairs with the rest of the Lehnsherrs. Having located his shoes, Erik sits down next to Charles again, much closer than he was before.

"They'll probably be less weird and happy about you being here soon," he tells Charles. "They just really like you, which, duh. You're you. Of course they like you." He glances over his shoulder at the staircase, then turns back and chances a kiss, leaning in and taking Charles' hand, interlocking their fingers.

"I like them being weird and happy," Charles says once they break apart, still close enough that their noses bump and Charles gives in and goes for a second kiss. Just quickly, little more than a brush of lips, really. "I'm glad they're happy to see me. I'm happy to see them, too."

"Good," Erik says.

He pops up again, heading to the downstairs bathroom to fix his hair, and Charles transfers himself from the couch to his chair. Mr. Lehnsherr reappears from the stairs a minute later, followed by Mrs. Lehnsherr, who has traded in her business casual outfit for jeans, and and then Ruth, whose freshly scrubbed face and bouncy ponytail make her look almost ridiculously wholesome. 

"Eriiiiik," Ruth bellows. "Hurry up, we're all starving!"

"You're being super uncouth in front of Charles right now!" Erik yells back from the hall, just a second before he enters the room, his hair once again arranged to his usual standards. Charles immediately feels the urge to muss it again, but it will have to wait.

"Ha!" Ruth says. "Charles willingly spends most of his waking hours around _you_. I bet I look like an angel in comparison."

Erik, to Charles' very great amusement, actually sticks his tongue out at her in response.

They split up into two groups for the ride, Charles and Erik taking Erik's car and Ruth and Erik's parents in the minivan. They meet up in the parking lot before making their way inside.

Dinner with the Lehnsherrs is often a lively affair, from what Charles remembers from last year, but everyone seems more giddy than usual tonight. Erik and Ruth take turns dominating the conversation, talking so quickly that no one else can get a word in--until one of them stops for breath and the other jumps in, giving the first a chance to stuff their face. It seems like a well practiced routine to Charles' eye. Like double dutch.

Mrs Lehnsherr finally interrupts them. "Let Charles get a chance to speak, you little monsters," she says cheerfully. "How has your summer been so far?"

"It's been nice," Charles says, smiling at her. "Obviously I missed Erik quite a bit at first, but this last week has been lovely."

"Lovely," Erik repeats fondly, popping a french fry in his mouth.

"Did the two of you do anything fun?"

"We mostly just hung out by the pool, honestly," Charles says.

"Of course Erik spent all week sunbathing and canoodling with his boyfriend," Ruth says, rolling her eyes. "Meanwhile, I'm working my butt off."

"I'm not responsible for your poor life choices," Erik tells her. "Also, ew, did you just say 'canoodling'?"

"I did say it, and I meant it," Ruth says firmly. "I bet you canoodled the crap out of each other."

"Now, Ruth," Mr. Lehnsherr says gently, "be nice. You're going to make Erik blush again."

Mrs. Lehnsherr and Ruth both laugh, and even Charles can't help but snicker. Erik turns the puppy eyes on him. 

"Et tu, Brute?"

Charles pats his hand, stroking his fingers across the back, which is something he's noticed somehow always seems to soothe Erik, even when Erik doesn't want it to. It works this time, just as well as it normally does. Erik's eyes soften a little and he turns his hand just enough to brush their fingers together.

Of course, it doesn't escape the notice of the rest of the family.

"Awwww," Ruth says and adds in some kissy noises for effect, which in turn _does_ make Erik blush again, even as he glares at her. Charles can _feel_ Erik's overwhelming desire to give her the finger, tamped down only by the knowledge that his parents would kill him if he did.

"Both of you cut it out," Mr. Lehnsherr warns them. "I know enough embarrassing stories about both of you to make you both blush even more."

Charles laughs again, mostly at the panicked look in both Erik and Ruth's eyes.

The rest of dinner passes in roughly the same manner, with roughly the same amount of teasing. At the conclusion of the meal, Mr. Lehnsherr waves off Charles' offer to treat and they all pile back in their cars and return to the Lehnsherr house, where crime shows are the order of the day until it starts to get late.

"More finals tomorrow," Ruth mutters halfway through an episode of _Criminal Minds_ that Charles gets the impression the whole family has seen before, multiple times. "I should take a shower and study a little more before bed."

"Shower now, then," Mrs. Lehnsherr warns. "I'll be wanting to shower before bed too."

"I'm going," Ruth insists, and kisses both of her parents goodnight before climbing the stairs. The Lehnsherrs make it to the end of the episode proper before they hand the remote to Erik, who's allowed Charles to sit up against him now, at the very least.

"Don't stay up too late and don't be too loud," Mrs. Lehnsherr tells them. She pauses for a moment, glancing at the door to Charles' room, then adds, "And I know that you two shared a room all last summer, but things are a little bit different now. Erik, you know the house rules--I want you sleeping in your own room at night, okay?"

Erik, for the seemingly thousandth time since they arrived, goes bright red. 

"Mom!" he hisses. "We're not going to--" And that, at least to Charles, is definitely a lie because he's not going an entire summer without sex and he doubts Erik plans to either. "--ugh."

"I know I sound like a prude," Mrs. Lehnsherr continues, "but I just think it's a double standard to not let Ruthie share a bed with her boyfriends and then to turn around and let you and Charles sleep together."

"I don't even sleep on the bed!" Erik complains. 

"Rules are rules," Mrs. Lehnsherr says. "And I'd appreciate it if you'd be discreet in general. I know you're not children anymore, but I'd be more comfortable with a little plausible deniability."

Charles can't hold in his laughter any longer, and once the first giggle escapes, it's not long until he's nearly doubled over as he laughs. Part of it is nerves, he knows; while most of the Lehnsherrs' gentle ribbing hasn't bothered him, hearing his boyfriend's mother talk to them about sex is a little embarrassing. But most of it is the look on Erik's face, horror comingling with disgust and disappointment and surprise.

"Oh, don't make that face, Erik," Mrs. Lehnsherr says. She waves at him dismissively. "I'm not stupid, you know. I do know what you boys get up to on your own. You and your sister weren't dropped on our doorstep by the stork."

"Mom!" Erik says, sounding a little desperate. "Please, please, _please_ stop talking about this."

"And you like to pretend you're so grown up now," Mrs. Lehnsherr says, shaking her head. She leans over and kisses Erik's cheek. "Good night, boys."

Charles manages to stop giggling long enough to wish her a good night, and Erik echoes him, though he continues to look at the stairs with a faint look of distress even after the Lehnsherrs have long left his line of sight.

Charles takes the remote out of Erik's loose grip, and turns the channel to the Food Network while Erik isn't paying enough attention to protest. 

"Oh my god," Erik mutters, shaking his head as he finally stops gazing out of the room, apparently satisfied now that his mother isn't going to return to mortify him some more.

"At least she didn't bring up condoms this time?" Charles offers helpfully.

"We totally should have stayed at your house," Erik says, a mournful tone entering his voice. Charles probably shouldn't encourage Erik's stupidly large dramatic streak, but it really is pretty entertaining most of the time. It certainly makes life more interesting. "We didn't appreciate the freedom while we had it."

Charles makes a humming noise, curling up a little closer to Erik. "I was hoping we'd get a chance to at least make out a little after everyone else went to bed, but I suppose that's off the table now?"

Erik looks hilariously torn.

"It's okay," Charles says, pressing a dry kiss to his shoulder. "We'll have the house to ourselves all day tomorrow, right?"

"We will!" Erik agrees eagerly. "For hours and hours and hours, even. We can break in your bed." Erik's humiliation has apparently faded enough by this point for his normal personality to start to push its way up to the surface, because he's smirking now. "You've never told me if you had any good fantasies about us in that bed last year."

And now, irritatingly, _Charles_ is the one who's beginning to blush. "You can't just ask me things like that."

"Why not?" Erik says. He turns sideways, so he's facing Charles full on rather than the television. "I'm your boyfriend now, you can tell me anything. And, like, it's really hot to think about. You already knew how you felt about me last summer, you said, so you must have thought about _something_ while I was too busy being dumb to clue in."

"It's embarrassing," Charles says weakly.

"It's _hot_ ," Erik argues. He pauses a second, and then says, in a lower voice. "I, uh, one of the times we were sexting, I went to your room to do it. It was almost like I could smell you on the pillow--even though that's totally stupid, because obviously my mom's washed the linens since last summer, but. It made it better, so."

"Erik," Charles says, and after that confession he can't do anything but lean forward to kiss Erik again. Erik allows, and the kiss deepens, sweet and heavy and breathless, and Charles is seriously considering pulling Erik over into his lap when Erik pulls away.

"Parents! Upstairs! Not even asleep yet!" Erik says, looking slightly crazed. "Save that thought for tomorrow."

Charles sinks back against the cushions with a groan. "Tease."

Erik lifts up Charles' hand, kissing it chastely like an old-time knight, and as he lowers it again seems to notice the TV for the first time. He frowns. "What the hell are we watching?"

"You know, I'm actually not one hundred percent sure?" Charles says, tilting his head. "It definitely has something to do with cupcakes, though."

Erik makes a disgusted noise and snatches the remote back from the cushion next to Charles and flips it to a _Golden Girls_ rerun. Charles isn't actually sure why Erik considers that an improvement, but he lets it go, and they watch the rest of that episode and another one after before they're ready to head to bed as well.

Erik heads up to his room, and Charles to his own. It's oddly difficult getting to sleep, without the dim shape of Erik's blanket nest and the sound of his breathing to lull him there. After an hour of increasingly annoying wakefulness, Charles stretches out his mind--not far, and not even particularly deep, but just enough to have the specific sense of Erik's mind working upstairs in the forefront of his consciousness, rather than in the background. Erik is asleep, and calm, and Charles' idea works, because he joins him soon after.


	6. Erik

"What's next on the list?" Charles asks as they stroll through Target the next afternoon. It's bustling, even at lunch time on a weekday. Erik can't help but wonder why these people don't have jobs, particularly when they leave their carts and strollers blocking the aisle and impeding Charles' path.

"Uh..." Erik jerks his first two fingers forward, his usual physical crutch when he's using his powers. His phone floats out of his pocket and hovers in the air in front of him. "Two 16 gig thumb drives, socks for Dad, birdseed for the birdfeeder, the good kind of lightbulbs, and some really specific hair thing that Ruth sent me a picture of."

"Well," Charles says, "then it makes sense to do lightbulbs, birdseed, hair, socks, and then the thumb drives."

Charles has like, really weird shopping rituals, but Erik is too tired to complain and lets him lead the way. Despite his intentions, Erik woke up with his parents this morning, blinking awake despite their best efforts to remain quiet as they got ready for work. Usually when that happens, he rolls over and goes back to sleep as soon as the house is empty.

This morning, he remembered that Charles was sleeping right downstairs.

He waited five minutes, just to be certain they hadn't forgotten anything, then went downstairs and climbed into bed with Charles. He hadn't entirely intended for them to get up to anything more than cuddling that early, but, well...it was first thing in the morning and his body had certain reactions to his sexual frustration and it's possible those reactions woke Charles up and it's possible Charles then pinned Erik to the bed and rolled on top of him and....

The point is, they've been awake since around eight and only got out of bed around noon to discover his mother left them the list of errands she promised yesterday. 

So. Target. In Erik's hometown, where he might run into someone he knows, with his hot boyfriend. It's actually kind of awesome.

Erik has always shopped with Charles, as long as they've known each other. The second week of their friendship, Charles mentioned taking the school shuttle bus to the grocery store and Erik offered him a ride instead and told him the shuttle bus was a piece of crap and Erik didn't mind driving him wherever. The third week of school, Charles called him from the same grocery store, where he was stranded in a downpour thanks to the shuttle breaking down. Erik picked him up and they've done their shopping together ever since.

Still, it's been kind of cool shopping with him since they started dating. All their food has always been largely communal--obviously, that's what friendship is for, right? But the past couple months it's been...different. Weirder, but cool. Like this is a thing they're doing together as a unit.

It's just a little shift, but it makes Erik happy for reasons he can't untangle.

They manage to get all of his mom's list with only a few additions (the new season of _Archer_ was on sale and they had _The Silence of the Lambs_ for only five dollars and Charles has _never seen it_ ), which means they just need to go to the bakery and put in the pastry order for Ruthie's graduation party and then go grocery shopping. It's only about one thirty, so Erik makes an executive decision to add another errand.

"Where to next?" Charles asks as they get back into Erik's car.

"Goodwill," Erik says. "I want to buy some clothes."

"No," Charles says immediately.

"Yep!" Erik says, pulling out of the parking space.

"I really feel like I've made my feelings on clothes shopping with you very clear in the past," Charles protests, but Erik just waves off the objection.

"Yeah, but we're dating now, so it's different." This seems both logical and obvious to Erik, but Charles grumbles anyway.

"A half hour," Charles says.

It's not as long as Erik would like, but he can totally be flexible. Besides, if he picks up a few things now, he can always drag Charles along for a more thorough trip later in the summer.

"I start work again next week," he explains to Charles as they enter the store. "You know how lame all my work clothes are from last year. I need to stock up on more stuff that's nice enough for work but still cool, like what I wore to Raven's graduation."

"Hmm," Charles says noncommittally. Erik isn't fooled, though; he knows how much Charles liked that outfit, and he can tell Charles is remembering it now too

He leaves Charles over by the used books and heads to the men's clothes. A half hour isn't much time, but Erik visited this store probably a hundred times in high school, so he's got a routine down. By the time Charles' mental _time's up_ alert pops into his head, he's managed to rummage up a half dozen bowties, a few really cool hats, and a whole armful of plaid button-up shirts. And for all his reluctance, when they leave the store Charles is carrying a small stack of paperbacks he found, so all things considered Erik feels pretty good about the trip.

"I mean, I'm going to have to fix up a couple of the shirts a little," Erik says, back in the car, "but still, that's a good haul."

"Fix up how?" Charles says, in a tone of voice that makes Erik pretty sure he's picturing Erik ripping things or putting on patches and safety pins and stuff, because Charles really doesn't understand Erik's style at all.

Erik refrains from rolling his eyes. "Just a couple alterations. Replace a few buttons, a loose thread, take in one or two that are baggier than I like. That sort of thing."

"You can sew?" Charles says, and honestly, Erik doesn't know why he sounds surprised. 

"Of course I can sew," Erik says. "Mom taught me and Ruthie a million years ago. Though I'm way better than Ruthie, obviously, since I can do it without my hands."

Charles looks momentarily delighted at the thought. He's always so weirdly excited at the thought of Erik doing stuff with his powers. Erik probably shouldn't find it so cute.

"Can I watch?" he asks.

"Don't make it weird," Erik warns him, but what he should say is, _Don't look at me like that while I'm doing it or else I'll get totally distracted and have to jump you instead of sew._. "It's pretty boring, anyway." Charles is still grinning at him and Erik has to laugh. "You're so fucking weird."

"You think I'm cute, I can tell," Charles says.

"Yeah, well, you can be both," Erik insists. "Anyway, if we finish grocery shopping fast, we'll still have another hour or two home by ourselves before my parents get home from work."

"I imagine you don't want to spend that time sewing," Charles says.

"No, I want to spend it making out," Erik says, and puts his foot on the gas.

The grocery store is fairly unremarkable and they finish their errands in plenty of time to get back to the house and put everything away and then crawl back into Charles' bed for a pretty heavy make-out session. If they were at school, or even back in Charles' huge empty house, Erik is positive they would have stripped and had sex. With the nebulous threat of his parents returning home in the near future, Erik won't even let Charles take his shirt off.

He knows that the more freaked out he gets in front of his parents, the more they'll tease him. He knows that if he just acts like it's not a big deal, they won't comment on it all the time either. Like Ruth pointed out last night, all last summer he had no problem sprawling himself over Charles' lap, spooning with Charles on the couch to watch movies, napping with his head in Charles' lap. It's silly to freak out now, but he can't help it. He can't even really explain it. It's like the thing with Charles, everything he feels, how important Charles is to him...it's like it's private. It belongs to Erik and to Erik's world, which includes school and their friends there and the world at large. It doesn't belong in this house, which is his parents' world. And he loves his parents and he loves that they love Charles and knowing his family already thinks of Charles as family is...good.

But the idea of them watching him kiss Charles, knowing his parents know he's having sex with Charles is...weird. And the weirdness lingers and becomes embarrassing and they mention it and it becomes worse and then he's blushing and hiding and it's like an endless cycle.

Fuck, it's going to be a long summer.

His dad normally gets home around five-thirty, so Erik gets out of Charles' bed at five, despite Charles' lingering pout and the way his face is all flushed and his shirt is pushed up so Erik can see a long, pale stripe of his stomach and the dip of his hips and--

Erik gets out of Charles' bed again at ten after five and makes himself grab his shoes and walk straight out into the living room without looking back at the even larger stripe of Charles' belly he knows is now exposed. He goes into the bathroom and remembers his father will be home soon and wills his erection to cool it and fixes his hair, and by the time he gets back out to the living room, Charles is watching a _Simpsons_ rerun and looking like butter wouldn't melt in his mouth.

Charles is really, really infuriating in a kind of sexy way.

Erik settles himself on the couch next to Charles, close enough that their shoulders touch, and even reaches out to curl their fingers together. Charles gives him a look out of the corner of his eye like he knows exactly what Erik is doing and maybe finds it kind of funny, but he doesn't say anything about it, so whatever.

Dad gets home just a few minutes later, maybe even a little earlier than usual. He sticks his head in the living room to greet them and let them know Ruthie is going to be home late.

"Apparently there is some serious stuff going down in the senior class," Dad says, widening his eyes dorkily, "and Ruth is all that stands between them and total catastrophe."

"Ruth _always_ thinks that," Erik points out. "I'm pretty sure she thinks the whole school is going to fall apart without her next year."

"Who says she's wrong?" Dad says. "You should be proud to be related to a superheroine. Imagine if she ever decided to use her powers for evil." He grins at them. "You guys finish all the shopping your mom left for you?"

"Yeah, of course."

"Great! Your mom was thinking spaghetti for dinner."

"We definitely got all the stuff for that special garlic bread thing you make," Erik says. It's really good, and Erik knows for a fact it was one of Charles' favorites from last year.

"Great!" Dad says again, and then he disappears off toward the kitchen.

"Your dad is always so, like...easygoing and friendly," Charles says, as Dad's humming fades out of earshot.

"Yeah, he's pretty cool, I guess," Erik says.

"It's just weird and interesting," Charles says thoughtfully, "because, I mean, he's so different from you."

Erik pauses. "What is that supposed to mean?"

Charles' response is laughter. "Absolutely nothing, darling," he says, unlinking their hands so he can stroke Erik's hair. "Friendly and easygoing describe you to a T. I can see it now, the epitaph they'll put on your grave. _Here lies Erik Lehnsherr: he was the chillest dude of all time._ "

Erik can't helping laughing, too, if only because the phrase "chillest dude of all time" sounds so ridiculous in the posh accent Charles is purposely playing up.

Erik's mom gets home soon after that. She stops to say hi to them, too, on her way to the kitchen. She calls in Erik to set the table a few minutes later, and then they're ready to eat.

Charles insists on helping clear the table after, and then he and Dad decide to do a jigsaw puzzle. Erik is pretty sure that sounds like the most mind-numbingly boring idea ever, but Dad and Charles both seem weirdly excited about it, so...sure. 

Erik leaves them to it. One thing Ruth was maybe a little right about last night is that Erik didn't really get much done when they were at the mansion, so he decides to go on a run. It'll be good for him to get back into his routine. Maybe he'll make Charles watch him do pull-ups tomorrow. For safety. Well, and because Charles' face does really good things when he sees Erik working out.

They spend Friday taking full advantage of the empty house and the weekend helping his parents get the house ready for Ruth's graduation party and missing the empty house. Monday is really their last shot at being home alone with any certainty--Ruth is out for most of the day at her cookout while his parents work, but Tuesday she only has to be at the school for a few hours and Wednesday she doesn't have to go at all until the actual graduation ceremony.

It is kind of cool to go back to the high school on Tuesday and Wednesday night to see Ruth getting all her awards. Erik gives her a hard time because she's kind of a brat, but a part of him is still totally proud of her. She's his baby sister--he's happy she got a scholarship to her first choice school and that she has half a dozen cords and sashes decorating her graduation robe and that she gets to sit in the first row of graduates as part of the National Honor Society. None of it is what Erik would have wanted for himself--he was invited into NHS, even, but turned the invitation down--but he knows how hard she works. She's gotten up at the crack of dawn every day since middle school and is always busy after school at one activity or another. Plus, she just _looks_ happy and proud.

She looks even happier walking across the graduation stage the next night, with Erik and Charles leading the cheers and applause. 

Ruthie's graduated. Ruthie's going to college. Wow.

He hugs her tightly once they find her in the mob of her friends, all of whom are taking turns taking selfies and pictures of each other.

"I love you, Ruthie," he tells her quietly enough that their parents can't hear and draw attention to it.

"Love you too, dummy," Ruth says. 

They take a few selfies, one of which Erik posts proudly to instagram ( _Fuck yeah, you did it, @rel2015!_ ) and then Erik lets her go to hug their parents and Charles and then get reabsorbed into the cheering, crying, hugging mob of her friends.

When they finally get home after dinner at the fancy Mediterranean place in town, Ruth heads out to Project Graduation and Erik reluctantly heads to bed. His vacation is officially over--Thursday morning he's back at work. Same thing Friday, and then Saturday is Ruth's graduation party. He's never going to get to see Charles again, at this point.

Going back to work is hard. Erik maybe spends a few minutes creepily standing in the door to Charles' room, watching him sleep. For a moment, he's really fucking mad at his mom for making him sleep in his own room. It's hard enough going off to work and knowing that Charles will be spending hours at home alone without him. Going to bed alone every night with Charles just one floor away is just adding insult to injury. He likes the summer in theory, likes taking time off from classes and having more time to fuck around and spend hours driving in circles and having nothing to worry about outside the boring confines of his job, but he's starting to wish it was August. At school, no one cares if he and Charles sleep in the same room or even the same bed.

Charles looks warm and happy and comfortable. Erik is going to fall asleep at the wheel and probably die before he even gets to work. This is the worst.

"Sweetheart, we should get going," his mom says quietly, coming to stand next to him. Her face softens when she sees what he's doing. "Oh, sweetie. He'll still be here when you get home."

"Yeah, whatever," Erik mutters, but Mom just pulls him into a one armed hug and he goes without hesitation. 

Maybe he's not _too_ mad at her. But he's definitely still annoyed.

It's not as bad once he actually gets to work, at least. There's a Starbucks down two blocks away from the office, and the iced latte he gets (the size of his head, with an extra shot) keeps him from dozing off at his desk. And, like, his work is pretty mindless--filing, scanning, data entry, all of that sort of thing--but one of the advantages of that is he can listen to music or podcasts or whatever all day or text Charles on his phone and nobody cares, as long as he gets the work done and doesn't make mistakes. Plus, he doesn't have to actually talk to anybody or face the public--Ruthie's lined up a job selling smoothies at the mall over the summer, which sounds like hell to Erik-- _and_ he gets to eat lunch with his mom every day.

So, like, as far as part time jobs go, this one is definitely pretty good. It's just that next to being at home with Charles, everything else sucks in comparison.

Charles doesn't start answering his texts until after ten. Erik decides that that's a pretty good time to take his first break. He kind of wants to head back down to get more coffee, but that's not really in line with the whole point of this, which is saving up money, so he just fills up his water bottle instead. 

_I'm sure you're not actually going to die before you get home_ , Charles' first message says, quickly followed by, _But if you do, I'm going to be very angry with you._

 _uggggggggh fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine_ , Erik responds.

_Thank you, I appreciate your consideration in this matter._

Erik rolls his eyes, but he's smiling, too. He types, _are you still in bed?_

_Do you want me to say yes and tell you I'm luxuriating shamelessly in bed or is that too distracting for work?_

Before Erik can actually make up his mind, Charles texts again.

_Or should I tell the truth, which is that I'm eating frozen waffles on the couch and watching The Price is Right?_

_The waffles were frozen, I mean. They're toasted now._

Erik can feel his smile widen even further. He probably looks totally doofy right now, just grinning down at his phone. If his family or his friends could see, they would make fun of him even more, he's sure. Right now he really doesn't care.

 _i miss you_.

 _I miss you, too_ Charles replies.

It's weird, but the day's a lot more bearable after that. Still much too long, but some kind of improvement. Friday's more of the same, except since Erik doesn't have to go to bed at a decent hour, they can stay up, hanging out in Charles' room for hours after everyone else has gone to bed. They even get to make out a little, though Erik's still feeling too skittish to let it go too far while everybody else is in the house. 

They're going to have to do something about that soon, Erik thinks as he heads up to his dumb stupid empty bedroom alone _again_. It's been almost a week now since they had sex, which aside from the weeks apart, is the longest they've gone without since they started dating by, like, several orders of magnitude. The closest they've come this week is experimenting with Charles' telepathy while Erik was jerking off in the shower one morning, and yeah, that was kind of awesome, but still. It's not the same. Erik feels jumpy all the time from how much he wants to touch Charles, and maybe Charles is more subtle about showing it than Erik is, but Erik knows he's feeling it just as strongly.

Fortunately, a light bulb goes off over Erik's head Saturday afternoon.

Ruthie's graduation party is in full swing, the house and the yard both stuffed with all of Ruth's friends and acquaintances and even a bunch of relatives. Ruth spent a while at the beginning chatting with Charles and Erik, but as people actually started to arrive, she got swallowed by crowds of shrieking well-wishers, and Erik hasn't actually set eyes on her in ages. His parents are pretty busy socializing, too. For a while Charles was enjoying meeting new people, but for the last half hour or forty five minutes he's stuck with Erik, hanging out in a corner and mentally chatting and sending Erik up to refresh their plates with the tastiest snacks every few minutes.

The brilliant idea that Erik has is that--well, everyone's busy and having fun, the party's going great. Nobody's going to mind if Erik and Charles sneak off for a little bit for some time alone, right? Nobody's even going to _notice_.

Erik hurries back over to their corner, weaving in and out of guests.

 _I see a distinct lack of crispy pineapple chicken on your plate,_ Charles says once Erik gets close.

 _Let's get out of here,_ Erik says eagerly, leaving the empty plate on the picnic table.

"What?"

Erik gets close enough to crouch down next to Charles' wheelchair.

"No one will notice if we disappear," he says. "Ruth's tied up in her friends, my mom is running back and forth making sure the party is going well, and my dad is still talking about baseball with my uncles. If we like, drove away to--I don't know, maybe that place we went stargazing last year, we could totally make out and no one would notice."

Charles chuckles and smiles at him and then puts his solo cup of root beer on the table.

"You're ridiculous," he says to Erik fondly. "Let's go."

Erik darts inside to get his wallet and keys and Charles' wallet and a tupperware to take some snacks for the road. He meets Charles out at his car and soon they're successfully headed down the street and then out of Erik's neighborhood.

It doesn't take Erik long to find the tiny alcove of abandoned farmland where they spent a couple afternoons talking last summer. He spreads out the blanket he keeps in his trunk, patiently waits for Charles to transfer down onto the ground, and then pounces on him, rolling them over onto their sides and kissing Charles with every ounce of frustration that he's felt for the past five days.

Charles pushes him away way, way too soon, but Erik figures out after a second that it's just because he's trying to get Erik's shirt off. Once he catches on, Erik's eager to comply, and help get rid of Charles' as well, throwing them both out of the way into the overgrown grass.

Charles is feeling kind of bossy today, apparently, because he keeps one hand on the back of Erik's skull, holding him really still while he kisses him thoroughly exactly the way he wants to. Erik is totally on board with this plan.

Charles' other hand's between them, playing with one of Erik's nipple rings--toying with it, really, light enough it would probably be a tease if Erik was even a little less horny, except as it is he can't help moaning into Charles' mouth and grinding up against his crotch.

"Calm down," Charles whispers between kisses. "Don't you want to make it last?"

Erik knows perfectly well that Charles isn't serious, that he's just winding Erik up, but he plays right into it anyway. _Fuck, no_ , he thinks as loud as he can, surging forward to kiss Charles again.

Charles breathes out a laugh as Erik pushes him down onto his back. Charles' happy, flushed face looks really freaking beautiful framed by the old blanket and the summer sun and part of Erik just wants to stare at him like an idiot. But a bigger part wants to kiss him some more, and that's the part that wins out.

He gets his hand down the back of Charles' pants so he can grope Charles' ass, and at the same time he applies himself fervently to Charles' throat. Charles clutches at his shoulders and just keeps making these really soft, sweet breathy noises that are maybe the sexiest thing Erik has ever heard. And Charles' dick is half hard, too, pressing up against Erik's boner every time he thrusts down, which is _really_ exciting. Like, to the point where Erik realizes he has to take some quick action if he wants to avoid staining his jeans.

Erik scrambles up to his knees, fumbling a little with his fly and boxers while Charles stares up at him, all wide eyed and panting and biting at his lip. Erik barely gets his dick out before Charles is reaching up, too, and the first touch of Charles' hot fingers against the head is enough to set Erik off--he's coming in hard spurts across Charles' heaving chest.

"Jesus," Charles says, sounding dazed. "I can't believe you just ravished me in a field."

"It's not like anybody can see from the road," Erik says. He lies back down, curling up against Charles' side and slinging his leg across Charles'. He kisses Charles' neck again as he reaches down to rub hard against the bulge in his pants. "Plus, you're not like, fully ravished yet."

"Well," Charles says, laughing breathlessly, "you should do something about that."

Like Erik needs an invitation, at this point. He goes back to kissing Charles' neck, still rubbing his hard-on, and Charles sighs happily.

"Take off my pants," he murmurs, scratching his nails across the back of Erik's head. Erik isn't thrilled about sitting up and moving himself away from Charles, but he manages it just long enough to pull Charles' pants and briefs down to his knees. When he's done, he straddles Charles and kisses him again, this time on the mouth, with a thigh wedged between Charles' legs, rubbing at his erection. Charles takes control of the kiss again, holding Erik still and taking what he wants. After a few moments, he redirects Erik's mouth towards his throat and holds it there instead, reaching down to grab one of Erik's hands and deposit it on his chest.

"You're bossy today," Erik breathes against his throat, but he can't say he's not pretty into it. Basically everything between him and Charles is about a million times better than it ever was with any of his exes, but this in particular--Erik was always in charge, before. A lot of the time, with him and Charles, it's not that someone is in charge, but more that they're moving together, kind of like a conversation or negotiation. He likes that--he likes it a lot.

But he definitely likes Charles taking charge, too. It's pretty hot.

He lets Charles hear that, pushes it into his head, and Charles laughs, high and breathless. Erik keeps kissing Charles' neck, scraping his teeth along Charles' collarbone, biting his earlobe. He's rubbing one of Charles' nipples with his thumb, too, and still moving his thigh against Charles' cock, and it all must be working in tandem because soon Charles can't talk or laugh or do anything but make these soft hitching noises and then, suddenly, a choked noise, his back arched, his nails digging into Erik's scalp and shoulder.

He falls back down onto the blanket with a thump, panting, peering up at Erik with glassy eyes that are mostly pupil. He looks so good, so hot, that Erik feels a sharp tug of arousal in the pit of his stomach. It doesn't quite go anywhere yet--though Erik is confident that if they keep lying here, kissing, he'll get there eventually--but it does make him feel a warm wave of fondness for Charles.

He rolls off the top of Charles and curls up next to him. He's a little disappointed to see that Charles didn't actually ejaculate from his orgasm, though his erection is flagging. Charles normally doesn't ejaculate and that's fine, but Erik knows that he _did_ at least once this summer while they were sexting and it kills him knowing he missed it.

"I've never had sex outside before," Charles muses, resting his head on Erik's bare chest.

"Well, if this stupid summer keeps up, I guess you'll need to get used to it," Erik mutters as the reality of living with his parents for the summer starts to beat its way past his post-orgasm satisfaction.

"That's not entirely true," Charles tells him, petting his stomach. "This has just been a crazy week. You usually only work, what, three days a week?"

"Yeah."

"And I'm sure some of those days will overlap with when Ruth works," he continues. "And your parents work all five days. And I bet Ruth will be out with her friends a lot on the days she's not working, just like last summer. So there will still be time."

"Not like usual, though," Erik says, stubbornly refusing to cling to that ray of hope. When he was at Charles' place, they managed to have sex at least once a day, and school was more of the same. The idea of only getting to do it once or twice a week is _awful_.

"Well, no," Charles agrees. "But it's better than nothing, right?"

"I _guess_ ," Erik says grudgingly. It's still a million times better than the weeks apart, that much is true--Erik still doesn't know how they survived that. It's just...he wants to be with Charles all the time, and it seems so dumb and pointless that all this other stuff is constantly getting in the way of that.

"It can't just be the two of us and nothing else in the world, you know," Charles says.

"I know that!" Erik says. "I'm not stupid."

"You're not," Charles agrees. "You're brilliant and sweet and passionate and uncompromising and I love all that about you. Even if you only let me see your cock once a week."

Erik snickers despite himself, and Charles grins, looking pleased. 

Charles yawns and stretches a little, then, and grabs the corner of the blanket to dab at the come on his chest--Erik is going to have to wash that before they come out here again. Erik helps him fix his pants and underwear back up to his waist, though still undone. 

"Do you want me to go fetch the snacks?" Erik asks.

"Mm, no," Charles says. "Let's just stay like this a while longer before we head back."

Erik can totally do that. He's thought about it before, how no matter how absolutely amazing the sex is, this is even better, this...this _intimacy,_ he guesses, him and Charles, tangled up together in body and mind, quiet and perfect. That's the worst part about his mom's sleeping arrangements rule, Erik realizes. He's pretty sure he could handle the sexual frustration way easier if he still had this every night, Charles in his arms to, like, recharge him for a being a person and dealing with everything else.

 _Such a sap_ , Charles thinks, all warm affection, and they kiss lazily for a while before they finally make the decision that they should head back.

Erik fetches their discarded shirts, folds up the blanket and returns it to the trunk, while Charles arranges himself in the passenger seat. When Erik gets in the car, Charles is looking down at his phone.

"We got a little carried away, timewise," he says, turning the phone so Erik can see how late it is. 

"I might have gotten a little carried away with your neck, too," Erik admits. The skin peeking over the collar of Charles' shirt looks pretty mottled. He's almost sure it's worse under the fabric.

Charles flips down the visor to try and get a glimpse of himself in the mirror. He groans quietly as he sees it. "Fuck, Erik, we told your mom we were going to be discreet, remember?"

"Well, I remember _now_ , obviously," Erik says as he starts the car. In his defense, marking Charles up is a really tough habit to break. Erik's done it the entire time they've been together, and it's never been a problem before. The opposite of a problem, really, because Erik fucking loves it and always has, being able to look at Charles and see that proof of them together, see that Charles' body carries evidence of Erik on it.

"Maybe I can get Ruth to lend me some concealer," Charles mutters.

By the time they get back to the house, the crowd's thinned out a lot, down to mostly only Ruth's inner circle of besties and a couple of Erik's aunts and uncles and cousins. His mom is actually sitting down in one of the lawn chairs in the backyard, drinking a beer and laughing while his dad talks, and basically looking kind of relaxed instead of on a mission, which is a good sign the party's winding down.

And just like Erik predicted, nobody even noticed that he and Charles slipped away. Or at least, if they did, nobody says anything to him, which is basically the same thing. 

Sometimes Erik is kind of a genius.


	7. Charles

Charles wakes up early on Monday so he can have breakfast with Erik and his parents before they head to work. It's totally worth getting out of bed at such an indecent hour--Erik's wearing one of his new outfits, and it looks _really_ good, even the hat which (if there was justice in the world) _should_ make him look like a senior citizen but instead just looks cool. And Erik is the last one out of the house when they leave, which means Charles can drag him in for a really quick goodbye kiss at the door before he goes. That's kind of exciting, actually, not just in the way that kissing Erik always is, but...kind of domestic and grown-up, maybe? Weird and nice.

Not long after they leave, Ruth comes downstairs to have a cup of coffee with Charles before she heads out with her friends, leaving Charles alone in the Lehnsherrs' house.

It's weird.

He has a list of household chores that he's supposed to do in exchange for the summer's room and board, but looking at the list for the week, he can already tell he'll be finished by the end of the day, maybe by the end of Wednesday if he goes extraordinarily slowly and takes lots of breaks. He's happy to be at the Lehnsherrs', he really is, but he feels so useless. He wishes the Lehnsherrs would just accept some rent or let him buy his own groceries or take them out to dinner once a week. This just doesn't feel equal.

Still, it's only the first week. He'll be here for almost two more months, so he has plenty of time to figure out what to do about this lingering guilt. In the mean time, he has time to watch some daytime television, take a shower, and then get to his chores.

While he's watching an old _Law and Order_ , his phone vibrates with a text. He expects it to be Erik, but he's not surprised to see that it's Moira instead. Moira is working at a Girl Scout camp for the summer out in Washington, one that she used to attend herself as a kid. She told him before she left school for the summer that it was sort of akin to a weird cult commune of liberal queer ladies and she was super looking forward to it. And while most of her texts this summer have been pretty positive, she's also been dealing with some new counselor who's nursing a giant crush on her and doesn't seem to understand that Moira is pretty regularly hooking up with the arts and crafts coordinator. 

She only has access to her phone for a few hours a day, so he turns his attention to chatting with her while she's around, telling her a little about his own summer woes ( _The Lehnsherrs are so nice and I love being here but Erik and I have only had sex like, three times in the past week and it's torturous!_ ) and making the proper sympathetic noises while she shares her own ( _Kiki and I were literally necking in the boat house during our TO and she walked in and like, sat down and tried to start talking to me!! While Kiki's fucking tongue was in my mouth!![](https://abs.twimg.com/emoji/v1/72x72/1f621.png)_ ).

Talking to Moira for an hour or so reminds him that Hank emailed him last night when he and Erik were getting ready for bed, so after his shower, he brings out his laptop, too. He takes a few minutes to read the blogpost Hank recommended, then spews his thoughts into an email and adds a couple paragraphs at the end about how he's at the Lehnsherrs' now (although Hank probably saw that on Facebook) and inquires about Hank's summer internship. He takes a detour to Facebook after that, and checks in with some of his other friends, liking various photos and leaving a few comments on Armando's post about going to see Alex in Illinois for a week and Lilandra's post about day one of her bird watching safari.

It's good to see what his friends are up to and to remember that a larger world exists beyond the empty house he's still sitting in. It's a matter of perspective, just like he keeps trying to convince Erik--with somewhat mixed results, admittedly.

Raven hasn't emailed or texted him since he saw her last, despite the reminder he gave her, but Charles isn't that surprised by that. She's updated her Instagram since then, at least, a few pictures of her buying salt water taffy or posing in her bikini at the beach ("She has a really good body," Erik had said absently, checking his phone, and the fact that it was a completely academic appreciation didn't stop Charles from punching his arm in response). Charles figures he'll probably hear from her for his birthday, at least, but otherwise he should probably give her plenty of space this summer, given that they'll be together all the time in the autumn.

He puts aside his laptop and works on the chore list for a while, spacing things out to make them last. The Lehnsherrs have a pretty big CD collection, with a lot more bands he's actually heard of than Erik's stuff, so he puts on the Beatles while he works. He stops around lunchtime, saving the rest of the list for later in the week.

Charles makes himself a sandwich in the kitchen. There's a new list jotted down on the notepad on the fridge, he notices. That would be a nice way to be useful, doing errands--not only useful, but just less isolated in general--but Charles didn't think of bringing his car. He hadn't needed it last year, with Erik around all the time, because Erik drove anywhere they needed to go. But this year, with Erik working, it would be really nice to have his own transportation and freedom. It's extra frustrating, Charles thinks, knowing there's a perfectly good car in the driveway that Erik would have no problem with him using (Erik and Mrs. Lehnsherr take her minivan to work together every morning, and Charles knows he's probably the only person on earth Erik would give permission to touch his baby). But of course that's a moot point, since none of the vehicles here have hand controls.

He's being a little whiny again, even after cheering himself up with his friends earlier. Ugh. He needs to quit that.

Erik texts just as Charles is loading his lunch things into the dishwasher. 

_super weirdly busy here today. i was hoping to get a chance to reorganize all the files in this directory to have a consistent naming scheme._

Charles isn't completely sure if that last part is a joke or not. Erik does like things to be organized and put together the way he likes, so...it's anybody's guess.

 _Poor darling_ , Charles types back. _I hope you won't be too pooped to take me on a drive tonight. I'm feeling a little cooped up._

_i'm sure i can find the energy somewhere._

_you know. given the right motivation._

There's the day's selfie, accompanying Erik's last text, a close-up on his face, raised eyebrows and a half-smile.

 _If I know what you mean and you think I do?_ Charles says, then immediately continues. _I was thinking some beers, some stargazing…_

_that sounds great. i might actually make it through the day with that to look forward to. wish me luck._

_Good luck._

Charles spends the next couple hours reading--Ruth owns a ton of stuff he's been meaning to check out and never got around to, and helpfully brought down an armful of books from her shelves this weekend. Ruth gets home around four, and immediately draws him into a conversation of what he thinks about the series he's started, and by the time the rest of the Lehnsherrs start to trickle in for the night, they've gotten into a vehement debate.

"Oh my god," Ruth is saying as Erik enters the room, stopping just long enough to kick off his shoes before he settles himself by Charles' side. "I can't believe you think she's a villain, it's so obvious you're supposed to be rooting for her--Erik, why didn't you warn me Charles had terrible opinions about things?"

"Did I never mention that?" Erik says, frowning. "I really thought I did. I tell a lot of people about that."

Charles raises his arm to wrap around Erik's shoulders, and turns his head to press a kiss to the corner of Erik's mouth. Erik allows it, but Charles can feel the way he goes tense for a moment before he makes himself relax and curl further into Charles' body.

"Ugh," Ruth says, sounding disgusted, "are you still being weird about that? I saw Charles' hickeys this weekend, okay, the cat's out of the bag. Not to mention I follow your Instagram, you perv, I've seen the pictures you post of him in bed."

"Those are _art_ ," Erik sputters as Charles stifles his laughter.

"Art, softcore porn, it's a fine line," Ruth says. "I'm just saying, given the early morning shots of a smiling shirtless dude in bed with you, I kind of got the memo about you guys; stop acting like we don't know you kiss sometimes. Anyway, we're getting off the topic, which is: Charles is so, so wrong and he won't admit it."

"It's not softcore porn!" Erik insists. "It's like...capturing a moment of happiness to, you know, put something good into the world." He's full on pouting, now, and Charles doesn't let himself laugh. Instead, he kisses the tip of Erik's nose.

"You have a very artistic soul," he says seriously, but Erik's scowl just deepens. "And your sister is just...fundamentally off base about this book."

"I've read the whole series!" Ruth protests. "I know things! Things you don't know yet! Things that were very obviously set up in the first book that you are willfully choosing to ignore!"

"If things are supposed to change later on, it's certainly not foreshadowed in the book I read," Charles counters.

"You're both total nerds," says Erik, who used to build robots for fun. Charles decides not to point that out to him, instead snuggling into his side. Despite Ruth's presence, and the sounds of Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr chattering in the kitchen, Erik not only allows it, but even sneaks his arm around Charles' waist.

Progress, then.

Dinner is slightly more subdued than usual--both Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr look exhausted, though they thank him for the already completed chores, and Erik is preoccupied with coming up with a way to sneak out some of the leftover beers from the graduation party. Charles insists on loading the dishwasher when the meal is over, which means Erik is out waiting for him by the car when he's through. By the look on his face, Charles guesses the beer thievery was successful.

"Ready?" Erik asks. Charles tugs him down for a long kiss in response.

It's a nice drive--the summer sun is still setting, but the roads are empty and quiet. It's cool enough to roll the windows down, the breeze ruffling Charles' hair and loosening the unhappy knot in his chest that had slowly formed over a lonely day of feeling useless. 

It's still not full dark when they reach their usual hideaway, but that's okay. Erik doesn't work tomorrow, so they can stay out as late as they want to tonight. Charles arranges himself on the blanket, staring up at the sunset, and Erik lies down next to him. They don't immediately rip each other's clothes off this time, though Erik slips his hand under the hem of Charles' shirt to rest on his bare stomach. They don't do much of anything, actually, except cuddle and watch the end of the sunset, occasionally sipping their beers.

"Sorry work was so busy and I couldn't text that much today," Erik says.

"It's fine," Charles says. "You have work and that's understandable. I just wish I didn't feel so useless in the house."

"I thought Mom gave you all kinds of stuff to do."

"She did," Charles says. "But it's really not all that much and I've already finished most of it."

"You're still not useless," Erik insists, and Charles is too content lying in Erik's arms to argue with him or explain, so he lets it go.

They stay that way for another fifteen minutes, and just when Charles is starting to think it's time for the kissing to start, he senses another mind entering his mental perimeter.

"Shit," he murmurs, pushing himself up. "A cop just pulled up behind your car and he's headed this way."

Erik's first instinct is to drape the hoodie he was using as a blanket over their beers, which Charles appreciates, but it leaves them precious little time to get up, pack up, and go...hide in the woods? Run away? He really has no idea how to react, and before he can ask Erik what they should do, the cop's flashlight cuts through the trees and lands on their blanket.

"Hate to break things up, kids, but this is technically private property and you're not supposed to--" The officer lowers his flashlight, the beam no longer blinding them. "Erik Lehnsherr? Is that you?"

Erik shifts uncomfortably. He's sitting up now, and Charles pushes himself up too. He can't really decipher Erik's expression.

"Yeah, hi," Erik says. 

"Good to see you, son," the officer says, but he has a similarly complicated expression and seems to be radiating something not unlike pity. "How you doing, then?"

"Fine," Erik says vaguely. "I'm, uh, fine. I go to college out in Massachusetts now."

"Good for you!" the cop says. "Glad to see you making something of yourself. Resiliency is good."

"Yeah," Erik says, and rubs the back of his neck. "Uh, this is my boyfriend. We were just stargazing. It gets, you know, full dark out here. Not like in town."

In a flash of inspiration, Charles silently thanks Hank for his eager gadgetry and picks up his phone from where it's lying next to them.

"It's with this app," Charles says, opening the app as subtly as he can before turning the phone for the cop to see. "You line it up with the sky and it tells you what all the stars and planets are. It really need to be dark for it to work, though." Charles is, he knows, not a particularly good liar, but he hopes the app at least makes for convincing evidence. The cop hardly glances at it, though, squinting at the screen for a moment, but coming no closer.

"Nice," he says, nodding at Charles. "Well, you know, I'm not supposed to do this and it really is private land, but I'll let you off this time. I don't think the group that owns it will notice or mind a little stargazing tonight."

"Thank you, sir," Charles says, hoping he doesn't sound as puzzled as he feels.

"You take care," he says. "Good to see you, Erik. Glad to hear things are going well. You're a good kid."

"Yeah," Erik says again, shifting awkwardly next to Charles. "Uh, thanks. Have a good night."

With a final wave, the cop disappears back the way he came. Charles waits until he can feel him all the way back at his car before he flops back down onto the blanket.

"That was so bizarre," he says. "I can't believe he let us stay. Did you know him?"

"Uh, kind of. A lot of the cops around here kind of remember me, I guess," Erik says vaguely. He lies down too, curling one arm around Charles' waist. "Anyway, he's probably going to tell the other patrols to give us a wide berth, which means we won't be interrupted again." He grins at Charles and raises his eyebrows. Something about the encounter with the officer is definitely strange and off, but he trusts Erik and Erik's hand has slipped back under his shirt again, and this time he's dragging his nails against Charles' skin. It's incredibly distracting, and when Erik kisses him, it gets even more distracting.

Charles has more important things on his mind for the rest of the evening.

It's late by the time they get back to the house, past midnight. The house is dark except for the porch light and one still-lit upstairs window that Charles knows is Ruth's room--she must be awake yet, reading or fooling around on her computer, though Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr are long asleep.

Erik follows Charles into his room, settling himself comfortably on the bed while Charles goes about getting ready for sleep. They're both still pleasantly spent from the night's activities--apparently the secret to finally smoothing out that sharp edge of impatience that Erik's been carrying around the last week and a half is a pair of orgasms in ridiculously quick succession. 

Erik had barely even softened in between, which was weirdly cool. Actually, the whole thing has been surprisingly exciting, having sex out in--well, almost in public, really, for all it feels private at the time. Or at least it does when cops aren't showing up. Still, Charles definitely has plans that require a bed at some point, and as he brushes his teeth he considers what it might take to encourage Ruth to make herself scarce on one of Erik's days off.

Erik's sprawled on the bed when Charles returns, still all soft and satiated, which definitely has to be near the top of the list of Charles' favorite looks for him. He moves to make room for Charles, and they cuddle for a while, not talking, until Erik starts to nod off and Charles has to kick him out to head up to his own bed.

Charles thinks about it a little more then, the weirdness with the cop, as he's turning over the day in his head, but he doesn't really come to any conclusions before he drifts off.

They both sleep in past ten the next morning. Ruth's playing video games in the living room with one of her friends, so Charles takes Erik out to breakfast at the grubby diner Erik introduced him to last summer that does the best waffles ever. They linger over waffles and coffee and homefries, chatting about nothing of real consequence--arguing over various outlandish ideas Erik has for their suite next year and fashion and politics. Charles updates Erik on all of their friends and Erik pretends to care for almost a full ten minutes before he instead begins to concentrate on twisting his coffee spoon into some sort of abstract sculpture. Erik's been focusing a lot on his fine control for the past year. He's made a lot of tiny, intricate things. Nothing has been quite so detailed as the mini DNA helix he made Charles for his birthday last year, but it's still been really impressive.

"So," Charles asks, reaching across the table to take Erik's hand before he can do the same thing to his fork, "what do you want to do today?"

"Well, I _wanted_ to lie on the couch with you and watch teevee, but if Ruth's gonna be hanging out at the house all day, I guess we need to make other plans," Erik says. He sighs and looks at Charles mournfully, like a dog that's been unjustly denied people food.

"There are plenty of other things to do," Charles says, biting back a laugh. "We can always check back in this afternoon and see if they're there or take a nap in my room."

"That sounds nice," Erik says. He twists their joined hands until their fingers and woven together. "Not as nice as it _could_ sound, but...."

"I could always ask Ruth to get lost so I can ravish you in private," Charles says. Erik manages to pale and blush at the same time, his mouth twisting into a horrified grimace. "Joking, joking," Charles lies. When he does ask Ruth for an afternoon alone, it will have to be under the radar, then. 

"We could go shopping again," Erik suggests.

"No, we couldn't."

Erik pouts at him. "Fine. We could...I don't know, what did we do last summer?"

"We drove around a lot," Charles says.

"We could drive around--well, fuck, I guess we did that yesterday night." Erik freezes, then, and almost looks panicked. "We weren't dating last summer. Are we supposed to be doing different things now? Are we supposed to be like, going on dates?"

"No, no, no," Charles says quickly. "I was only asking because it's your day off and I thought you might have plans. We don't need to be doing anything different than last summer."

Erik doesn't look entirely convinced.

"Driving around is fine," Charles assures him.

But Erik still looks slightly wary when they get into the car and pull out of the parking lot. He doesn't relax until they're miles away, music blasting, Charles holding Erik's hand over the center console.

They spend most of the day driving, stopping for lunch and to get gas along the way. They visit a used bookshop, a hole in the wall thrift shop, and a pop-up craft fair on the town green a few towns over. By the time they get back to the house it's nearly dinner time.

"It smells like tacos," Erik says as soon as they get inside, and Charles follows him straight into the kitchen, still holding their day's findings on his lap. Mrs. Lehnsherr is standing at the stove stirring something in a skillet, but both Ruth and Mr. Lehnsherr are busy at the table, Ruth shredding cheese and Mr. Lehnsherr chopping various vegetables, onions and tomatoes and lettuce. 

"You're just in time, boys," Mrs. Lehnsherr says, shooting them a quick smile. "Five minutes until dinner."

"You want me to start on the guac?" Erik says, but he doesn't wait for an answer before he grabs some another cutting board and produce from the counter and sets himself down at the table, floating some silverware over to him from the drawers.

"Is there anything I can help with?" Charles says, even though the Lehnsherrs fairly clearly have everything under control. It's not like he knows anything about cooking, anyway. And as much work as Erik's family has put in to make the house accessible, they haven't remodeled everything--it can be a tight fit to get around the kitchen when everyone is in there and sitting down, and a lot of the dishes and glasses are in high cabinets, so he can't even volunteer to set the table.

"Come sit by me and tell me if this needs more garlic," Erik orders, before Mrs. Lehnsherr can tell Charles that they're fine and he can go relax. 

Charles smiles. "I've told you a hundred times I hate avocados," he reminds Erik as he makes his way over to his spot beside him.

"I know," Erik says, "but I'm pretty sure I just haven't found the right dish to convince you yet, because the alternative is too sad."

Charles does insist on helping clear the table after dinner, at least. Loading the dishwasher and putting leftovers away in tupperware are definitely within his skill set. Ruth and Mr. Lehnsherr wander off, and Erik, too, after Charles gives him a mental nudge, but Mrs. Lehnsherr stays at the table, sipping at her daily post-supper mug of tea.

"I hope you're enjoying your summer so far," Mrs. Lehnsherr says, once Charles shuts the dishwasher door with a satisfying click. 

Charles blinks at her. "Of course I am--you must know how much I love being here!" he says. He certainly thought he had made it clear enough, at least. 

Mrs. Lehnsherr grins. "We love having you here, too, sweetie. I just noticed you seem...a little restless, let's say."

That, on the other hand, Charles definitely hadn't realized was so obvious.

"You know, the first time Jake and I went on a real vacation together--well, we couldn't afford a honeymoon when we got married, but when Erik was four and Ruth was two, our parents surprised us with a trip for our anniversary. They watched the kids while we went up to stay at a cabin in the mountains for a long weekend. It was such a generous, sweet gesture, and we were so grateful--but my god, Charles, I don't think Jake and I have ever come that close to divorce."

The surprise tears a laugh out of him. He wheels a bit closer to the table. "What happened?"

Mrs. Lehnsherr is shaking her head ruefully. "I couldn't do it! Three days to just sit around and do nothing? Jake thought it was heaven, but I was going stir-crazy twelve hours in. By the time we left I was picking fights and snapping his head off, all because I just--I needed something to _do_ with myself." She sits back in her chair, swallowing the last of her tea before setting the mug back on the table. 

"I think I can understand that," Charles says slowly.

"Jake laughs at me for it," Mrs. Lehnsherr admits. "It doesn't count as a vacation if I spend all of my days off working on the house, apparently. But I definitely enjoyed taking a week to repaint the upstairs or tile the patio more than I would have doing nothing, so I count it as a win."

She stands up. Charles watches thoughtfully as she rinses the cup out in the sink. "Maybe," Mrs. Lehnsherr suggests, turning off the faucet, "you should consider setting yourself some kind of project for the summer."

"I...that might be a good idea."

"Something to think about," Mrs. Lehnsherr says. "Now, it sounds like there's a basketball game going on in the driveway, and I doubt you want to miss Ruth crushing the boys."

"Not for anything in the world," Charles says, and follows her outside.

After the basketball game (Erik's competitive streak and lack of skill were evenly matched with Ruth's shorter stature and stronger athletic skill. Mr. Lehnsherr changed teams at his whim, and by the end, it was something like a draw.), Erik takes a shower in Charles' bathroom and then crawls into bed with him, clad only in his boxer shorts.

"I think I should take up a hobby this summer," Charles tells Erik, stroking his hair while Erik cuddles against his shoulder. "A project."

"Good idea," Erik yawns.

"It was your mom's," Charles admits.

"Best idea, then," Erik says, and Charles laughs.

Kicking Erik out of his bed, half-asleep, is tough, but Charles still goes to sleep feeling slightly better about life


	8. Erik

The second full week of work is just as tedious as the first, but Erik figures it could be worse. He has his office, his list of tasks, his giant Starbucks coffee, and his music blaring in his earbuds. He has Charles too, sort of, texting him periodically about his own morning activities and routine. It would be better if he was home with Charles, taking advantage of the emptiness of the house now that Ruth has started work for the summer, but it's not too bad.

His phone buzzes on the desk. Speaking of Charles....

 _Morning_ , the text says. Erik can feel his mouth curling into a smile. He taps to reply with a photo and flips the selfie camera around to make sure his hair looks good, then uses his powers to adjust the height and angle of the shot before capturing it. He looks good today--he looks good every day, but the shirt he's wearing today was an absolute steal and the purple bowtie really compliments it. The outfit would look better with grey suspenders instead of navy blue, but he has to work with what he has.

 _Good morning,_ he types to send along with the picture. He puts the phone back down and goes back to entering new patients, and it's less than a minute before it buzzes with a return text.

 _I'm feeling lazy today_ , the text says, but he doesn't care about the words so much as the picture attached, a return selfie of Charles half-asleep in bed. He's shirtless and he has bedhead and Erik can see the remnants of some hickeys on his chest and he needs to look away from the picture pretty abruptly and focus on work for a while because, wow.

Fuck, Charles is so hot. It's been _so_ frustrating since they got home, having Charles around him all the time looking the way he does and barely being able to touch him. He loves his family, but he kind of misses school. He kind of even misses Charles' big creepy museum house. Anywhere that he can touch Charles whenever and however he wants, really.

He shakes his head clear and takes a sip of his iced coffee and breathes out and picks up the phone again.

 _tease i'm at work and my pants are def too tight to hide a boner,_ he sends. Then, _I think Ruth is working tomorrow afternoon???_

 _Sorry, darling,_ Charles' next text says. _I'm about to take a shower and get dressed anyway. I'll talk to you in a bit_

 _Fine_ , Erik replies, _I'll just sit here and try not to think abotu you in the shower._

He puts the phone down again and goes back to entering new patients. If he gets through the new patients by lunch, he can go back to converting old records to the new system, which is a much more relaxing process that involves a lot less trying to decipher people's shitty handwriting.

It's less than ten minutes later that another text interrupts his work. He's surprised--Charles' showers are usually a little longer than that by necessity. But it's not a message from Charles that's waiting for him, rather one from Ruth.

_yo, what do you think about this as a birthday present for charles? Do you think he'd actually wear it??_

The attached picture is of a tank top with a drawing of a DNA helix and "checks itself before it wrecks itself" underneath. It's exactly the sort of dumb science joke that Charles would like and Erik is always in favor of Charles wearing more tank tops.

 _yeah, definitely,_ he replies.

 _Great, got that checked off my list, then,_ Ruth responds. _I imagine you're going all out now that you're dating, but make sure you at least leave time for cake and stuff. Mom and Dad'll want that._

Shit. Is he supposed to be going all out now that they're dating? Probably. He probably is. He's probably supposed to, like, get Charles some awesome perfect amazing boyfriend present. Charles deserves an awesome perfect amazing boyfriend present. Erik has no idea what an awesome perfect amazing boyfriend present would be.

"Fuck," he says out loud.

What does Charles like? Erik's mind is suddenly blank. Charles likes lots of stuff. But Charles _has > lots of stuff, too. Charles is like super rich and if he wants stuff he can just buy it for himself. There isn't anything he's been waiting or saving for. For Erik's birthday this year Charles went to all this trouble to get awesome sold out concert tickets, but Erik can't do anything like that. _

Last year, before they were dating, Erik made Charles this little metal sculpture thing. And Charles loved that--Erik knows that for sure, not just because Charles said, but because Charles still carries it around all the time in his pocket or wallet. Which is great, because it means there's a little piece of metal Erik can always track on him, even when he's not in the wheelchair (even though Erik is never in a million years going to convince Charles to get a piercing of his own, no matter how hot it would be).

So that was a good present, but like...Erik can't just do the same thing two years in a row. That's dumb. 

Fuck, fuck, why is this so hard? And now he's remembering his worry the other day at breakfast, too. Charles thinks Erik's romantic for some reason, but what has Erik done to prove that to him? They haven't done anything...couple-y. Maybe Charles does want to go on dates. Where do people go on dates? 

Erik knows he's a way better boyfriend to Charles than he was to any of his stupid exes, but that's not exactly a high bar to clear. There's still plenty of room for him to be kind of terrible. 

He spends pretty much the entire morning fretting about it as he works. Even Charles' texts don't cheer him up the way they usually do, because it just reminds him of how awesome Charles is. Why didn't he start planning this months ago? As soon as they started dating, even? He only has a week to figure this out.

Mom even notices when they stop for lunch. "Something on your mind, honey?" she says as she unwraps her sandwich.

Erik scowls down at his carrot sticks. "Charles' birthday is next week and I don't know what to get him and he's probably going to break up with me."

Mom laughs at him.

" _Mom_ ," Erik says.

" _Erik_ ," she says, in the same tone. "I'm sure it will be fine. You're being silly."

"You don't understand," Erik says. "Everything needs to be perfect!"

"All right," Mom says, still smiling, "go ahead and pout if it makes you feel better. Don't mind me." She flips open a magazine on the table and proceeds to page through it as she eats.

He can't _believe_ how dismissive his mom is of this. He thought she liked Charles and wanted him to stick around!

He's never had to do something like this. Before Charles, he dated a lot of guys, but he didn't really...date them. Like, they went to shows together and made out and hung out and had sex, but it was never important. He didn't think about their birthdays. He didn't worry about taking them out places. They knew what they were getting into with him, so they didn't expect it, and that's what Erik wanted.

Even before college this was weird and foreign. There were a couple guys he made out with in high school and then one guy he dated for a few months, but that was mostly because he wanted to take a guy to the prom to make a point and the queer mutant options at school were limited at best. In his defense, his date wasn't anymore into Erik than Erik was into him--he's pretty sure the only reason they went out in the first place, besides the prom thing, was because neither of them wanted to go to college a virgin.

There weren't a lot of guys in high school who were openly into Erik, which was fine because Erik mostly wasn't into them either. It was really the summer after high school when things started to change. He got a haircut and he started dressing slightly better--he looked okay in high school, but he hadn't fully developed his style yet. He started following a couple local mutant groups on Facebook and decided to go to a couple parties and...well, there were a lot more queer mutant guys at these parties than there were in his school. And they were a lot hotter. And they thought he was a lot hotter.

He didn't want to like, start a relationship right before he left for college, so it made sense to mostly just make out and fool around with those guys. And whenever one started annoying him, there were always half a dozen more eager to go out with him instead. And he sort of always figured he'd go to college and meet someone awesome who wanted to date him long term, but then there was Charles, and Charles took up basically all his free time. He didn't have time to date someone long term, so he just kept with the system. It was good. He liked sex, guys were willing to provide it, and he still got to spend all his time with Charles.

This is better, of course--having sex _with_ Charles in addition to spending all his time with Charles doing all the things they used to do. He loves it. It's so much better than anything he's ever had with anyone before and he loves Charles so much some days he thinks he's going crazy. But that makes it all the more important to get stupid things like birthdays right. He can't lose Charles--his life would be over.

He goes through the rest of his work day converting files to the new system, but he's distracted, still. Charles is hard to shop for--that's why Erik made him something last year in the first place. Maybe he should make something better? Or take him somewhere? Or...what else do people even do for birthdays?

Erik hates asking people for advice, but he thinks he would probably make himself suck it up now, except--well, who would he ask? He knows Charles better than, like, anybody else does. He could ask Raven, he supposes, but Raven and Charles don't even get each other birthday gifts, from what Charles has said. They just like go out to a special dinner and a movie or something. 

Erik could totally take Charles out to a movie. Except...hmm. They used to go to a bunch of documentaries together at school, but they haven't been since they started dating, and now that Erik thinks about it, he's not sure how long he could stand being in a dark room with Charles before they would just start making out. Which might be awkward, since they have to sit at the accessible seats in the middle and can't hide in the back row, and also, still doesn't seem romantic and special.

Mom's already dismissed Erik's concerns, so he can't ask her. The only other person he can imagine knowing Charles enough is Moira, which...no way is Erik asking Moira. Maybe if they were at school and he could talk to her in person and just, like, slip it into a conversation somehow and be really subtle and nonchalant about it. But being all deliberate and emailing her about it? Moira would make so much fun of him. Also, she's technically Charles' ex, which Erik suspects makes it a little weird.

It's Wednesday now. Charles' birthday is Tuesday. Erik has not quite a week to figure this out. He can do it. He has to.

When Erik gets home from work, the first thing Charles does is raise his eyebrows and say, "You seem particularly broody this evening, darling. Anything you want to share?"

"No," Erik says, sitting down next to him. Although of course he does want to share, because talking to Charles usually makes things clearer. But he can't, so.

"All right," Charles says easily. "Let me know if you change your mind."

Charles is pretty good at distracting him the rest of the night, which Erik has to think he's probably doing on purpose, but it's not like Erik can complain. And the next day Ruth goes out with her friends in the morning and says she's going to leave for work straight from Anna's house, which means Charles and Erik have the house to themselves _all day_ , and it turns out Charles brought his prescription along without telling Erik, so...that's a good day. 

It's not really until Erik's at the office again Friday morning that he really buckles down to focus.

There aren't a ton of new patients to enter, so Erik spends the first part of the morning googling things like "what do you get your boyfriend for his birthday?" and "thoughtful awesome presents that aren't commercial things." The results leave much to be desired and are all pretty heteronormative. He's leaning back in his chair, twirling idly as he tries to think of a solution, when his mother knocks on the door and then opens it. He snaps forward and tries to look busy, but instead of rolling her eyes at him or telling him to get to work, she looks all...emotional.

"Is something wrong?" he asks.

"No, no," she says, but then sniffles. "Go to the CNN website."

"O-kay," Erik says slowly, turning back to his computer. He types the address and hits enter, glancing back up at his mom as it loads, and then back down to read--

_Supreme Court rules in favor of same-sex marriage nationwide_

Oh.

"I just wanted to make sure you saw it," she says. She comes into the room and kisses the top of his head, which definitely messes up his hair, and then heads back out to the reception desk. Erik is still blinking at the screen.

Erik isn't 100% sure how he feels about marriage. He was happy a few years ago when New York legalized marriage equality, but he was also kind of fucked up from Shaw, still, and he was pretty disconnected from it. He likes the idea of all the important things, like legal protections, but he also feels like marriage is pretty bourgie and heteronormative and commercial. He's against all of that, in theory, and he thinks there are probably more important issues for queer people, but visibility is important, too, and....

Well, he has a lot of feelings on it.

But the thing is, all of those thoughts and ideas and opinions were formed years ago. Like, before he knew Charles. Way before he was dating Charles. And now that he's here, dating Charles, so totally in love with Charles, already fantasizing about being with Charles forever....

Marriage wouldn't be the worst thing. In fact, the idea of marrying Charles, telling everyone, _showing_ everyone that they'll have each other for the rest of forever...it's pretty great.

He's conflicted. He's really...not sure what to feel or how to feel it. He's excited for all the people who can get married now, happy that the conservatives are going to be so pissed about this, irritated that so many places still don't have employment protections for queer people, and about a hundred other things at once. His head is loud, a twisted mess, and he mostly wishes he was home already so he could put his head in Charles' lap and try to unravel all of his feelings. He always thinks better with Charles there--he has no idea why, but it's been true since practically the moment they met.

His phone buzzes on his desk, and when he looks at it, it's a string of emojis from Ruth, mostly rainbow hearts and two guys kissing interspersed with rainbows and celebration confetti. He's not sure how to respond, yet, so he puts it back down. A minute later, it buzzes again and he almost ignores it, but reaches for it after a moment of deliberation.

This one is Charles.

_This is fairly exciting_

A few seconds later, another one comes through.

_I'm watching the internet and it's a really lovely outpouring of celebration and excitement. This will certainly be in the history books._

Erik is still trying to figure out how to respond when a third text comes through.

_But it feels strange and awkward to talk about it, since it feels...heavier, I suppose, now that we're together. We've only been together a few months, but people are going to ask questions and obviously, as I said, we've only been together a few months, so I don't really have any answers yet._

And then a fourth.

_I mean, not until we've had a conversation, but even then I feel like that conversation is...a ways away, yet. We're still in school._

_Am I freaking you out? I don't mean to freak you out. I'm freaking ME out a bit to be honest._

Erik can't help but smile a little. He would be able to tell Charles is freaked out even without Charles coming out and saying it; it's a dead giveaway when he starts to babble like that. 

It's another thing about Charles that's really cute.

Erik waits to see if there are any more texts coming, but that seems to be the last. He bites his lip and then types out deliberately, _you're not freaking me out._

After a moment of consideration, he continues, _i mean, i am freaking out a little. but it's not because of you._

He bites his lip.

_i guess...it feels like a big deal? and like obviosuly it's important in the big picture but that's different. and i wouldn't have thought it would feel like that._

_i don't know what i think but it's not what i would have thought i would be thinking._

Erik rereads back his own texts and groans.

_sorry, I know that doesn't make sense._

An emoji heart arrives just as Erik hits send, before Charles could have a chance to read the last one, and then another text a minute later.

_No, I think I get that._

Charles probably does. Charles understands a lot of stuff. A lot of stuff about Erik, in particular.

And actually...chances are, Erik realizes, Charles would probably also understand if Erik can't find a perfect birthday gift for him. Especially if he knows how hard Erik is trying. Like, _maybe_ Charles dumping him isn't the most likely outcome there. Maybe.

Huh.

He still wants to get Charles something totally awesome, obviously, because Charles deserves something totally awesome--but if it's not perfect it might not be the end of the world. Charles is pretty serious about him, even knowing all the shitty stuff about Erik. He's thinking about the future, too, which is really scary but also cool.

Erik's head still hurts a little from all the emotions swirling around, but he can breathe a little better now.

_if you ask me to elope this weekend i probably would freak out for real thoguh. jsyk_

_Good to know_ , Charles replies, and Erik thinks he can perfectly picture the soft smile on Charles' face looking down at the phone.

It's weird, but--well, of course they're not ready to get married yet, because that would be totally crazy. They're way too young and Charles is right, they've only been dating a few months. Technically, at least, since it doesn't really feel that way, but still.

But marriage aside, like--Erik is totally committed to this. He thinks he's made that pretty clear to Charles, because Erik is pretty obvious about everything. But that doesn't mean it's not worth saying again. He made Charles a sculpture last year with his powers, but that's not the only thing Erik is good at. He's good at...school. Writing. He's pretty great at writing. (Charles likes to say he's too grandiloquent, but Erik doesn't think that's a real flaw.) Obviously feelings are a million times harder than essays or manifestos or whatever, but he can still try.

A love letter is really fucking cheesy, Erik knows, but he remembers the birthday card Charles gave him last year, and that was sappy as all hell, too, and totally amazing and Erik almost teared up reading it. So cheesy is okay.

And then maybe he'll take Charles out somewhere, too. It doesn't have to be somewhere romantic, even. Charles is a giant nerd who likes nerdy things. Erik feels pretty certain he can find something nerdy to drag Charles along to and watch him light up. 

When he gets home that night, he's in much better spirits than he had been. Charles notices right away. Unfortunately, so does his dad.

Erik loves his dad, obviously. But sometimes he's such a fucking...dad.

"You're in a good mood today," he says as Erik comes in, grinning at Charles as he sets the table for dinner. "Thinking about the wedding bells in your future?"

Erik can see Charles turn bright pink, like someone flipped a switch. He knows he's blushing too. He wants to crawl into a hole and _die_. 

"Jake, don't tease," his mom says as she comes in behind him. "Besides, I already told them they can't get married until they graduate."

"You're all _the worst_ ," Erik says as Charles hides his face behind his hands.

His parents turn the topic to something else in the news after that, thankfully, and Erik and Charles are able to escape to the living room.

"They're so embarrassing," Erik says, flopping onto the couch and pulling a pillow over his face. Charles transfers carefully over and positions himself in the corner, and Erik waits until he's settled before he crawls over to put his head mournfully in Charles' lap.

"They're parents, I think that's their job," Charles says, like he's not still flushed. "Anyway, you do seem to be in a good mood. Did you figure out what was bothering you?"

"I did!" Erik says. He's going to have to get to work soon if he wants the letter done by Charles' birthday. He has a feeling he's going to go through a lot of drafts, and he can only do it after Charles is in bed or while he's at work.

"Good," Charles says. "Your brooding isn't attractive."

"That's a total lie, I'm always attractive," Erik says.

There's another round of teasing when Ruth gets in, but, perhaps in deference to annoying the crap out of him, after dinner his parents decide to walk to Dairy Queen and Ruth disappears into her room with a stack of library books. For a few minutes after they all leave, the house is strangely quiet, just Charles and Erik lying on the couch, not even the television to break the silence. Charles is propped up against the arm of the couch and Erik is curled against him, his head on Charles' chest.

"It's weird," Charles says eventually. "I mean, same-sex marriage has been legal in New York for a bunch of years now and it's been legal in Massachusetts since forever ago. This shouldn't really...change anything."

"I mean, it doesn't," Erik says. Then, after a spike of panic, "Does it?"

"No!" Charles says quickly. "Just...with your parents and Ruth and my sister and Moira and everyone just giving us meaningful looks all of a sudden. Like we weren't already--"

Charles abruptly quiets. Erik waits for a long moment, hoping that Charles will pick up again. He doesn't know what Charles was going to say. He can guess. Imagine. Imagining is no good, though, because his brain is eager to fill in the rest of the sentence with all sorts of terrible things.

Something of his panic must show on his face or in his mind, because Charles squeezes Erik's hand.

 _No,_ he says, just a whisper in Erik's mind. _Nothing like that. Just...we sort of...never talked about it after the STD testing, but I meant what I said then. This is...long term, for me. This is...really serious. I don't see a future without you in it. And maybe that's because I'm young or I'm silly or...I don't know._

It takes Erik some time to sort out his thoughts, tracing absent designs on the back of Charles' hand as he tries to pick apart the layers of meaning and the twisted wires of feeling.

 _I don't think you're too young or too silly or whatever,_ Erik tells him slowly. _You're, like, the smartest, most rational person I know._ He pauses again. _Well, about most things. You're really stupid about some things._

Charles laughs out loud. 

"You know what I mean," Erik says. Then, because it's easier to say it in Charles' head, _You're not stupid about this. And like...the second I met you, I knew it too. I knew we'd be friends forever. And now that we're more than friends..._ He rolls onto his back to look up at Charles, and Charles leans over and kisses his forehead.

"Me too," Charles says quietly.

"What's the word," Erik says, "for when something is kind of scary but also exciting and, like, calming and soothing at the same time?"

"I don't think there is a word for that," Charles says.

"Well, that's dumb. There should be." Erik rearranges himself again, snuggling in closer. With his head on Charles' chest he's aware of Charles' heartbeat, and after a little bit Charles' hand comes up to play with Erik's hair.

Erik will need to remember this for the letter. Exactly how this feels, and the way he's never felt anything like it before Charles. Charles will like knowing that.

They stay like that for almost an hour before Erik's parents get back. No making out, and they don't even talk a whole lot more, content to just be quiet together, touching like this. It's weird how nice it is, Erik thinks. It doesn't feel like it's missing anything. It feels right, just how it is. And when other people force their way in again--well, he feels more centered in himself, too, ready to face whatever. Even if it is just a bunch more dumb marriage jokes.


	9. Charles

The weekend follows the new routine they've mostly settled into, alternating time with Erik's family with the time they seek out on their own. Erik's old blanket, even more faded after repeated washings, is getting a lot of use these last few weeks, and Charles is starting to catalog all the different "stargazing spots" Erik's found for them. They haven't gotten caught again since that first weird encounter with the police officer, which is definitely good, because Charles is pretty sure the stargazing excuse will fly a lot less in the middle of the afternoon. And it's not like Charles' abilities give them as much warning time to prepare as they might usually, not when he's distracted by making out, or getting high, or, well, both. 

Monday is the fourth of July, which translates into a backyard BBQ, including some of Erik's extended family again. Charles is starting to get used to hearing Erik introduce him to people as his boyfriend, but it's still kind of a thrill, especially the little spike of pride he feels from Erik every time. Erik even says it to people Charles just met at Ruth's graduation party ("Aunt Rachel, you remember my boyfriend Charles, right?") which is the kind of thing that's sweet and cute enough that Charles wants to reward him for it in ways that are not really compatible with being surrounded by family members.

He gets a chance later, though, after the party's ended and Ruth and Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr head out to their favorite hill in the park to sit and watch the fireworks. 

There are still explosions going off when Charles falls asleep, and then when he wakes up, it's his birthday.

Ruth's excited knock on his door wakes him up, followed quickly by the blast of music as she makes her way across the room to sit on the bed beside him. 

"I thought that was a one time thing last year," Charles says, yawning.

"Nope!" Ruth says cheerfully. "Tradition!" She thrusts a gift-wrapped box into Charles' hands with a grin.

What is different from last year, of course, is not having Erik in a comforting nest of blankets on the floor. But instead, Erik's followed Ruth down the stairs, and he's leaning against the doorframe, looking vaguely tired and cranky, and not a little ridiculous, clad in his boxers and an Omega Force hoodie.

"Mom wants to know if you want birthday pancakes before they go to work or if you want to sleep in instead," Erik says.

"You should pick the pancakes," Ruth advises.

"Pancakes sound lovely," Charles says, smiling at Erik. Erik's entire face softens as he smiles back, and he looks more like his normal self and not so sullen from having just woken up. 

"I'll let her know to get them started," Erik says. He turns down the hall toward the kitchen.

Ruth bounces on the bed impatiently, and Charles takes the hint to begin unwrapping the package. The tank top inside makes him laugh aloud. "I take it you figured out my weakness for science-themed puns?"

"Picked up a clue here or there, yes," Ruth says, looking pleased with herself. "Plus I checked with Erik to make sure it was your kind of thing, so."

"It's wonderful," Charles says. He wraps his arm around her shoulders and squeezes in a half-hug, which she returns briefly before jumping to her feet again. Charles has to wonder just how much caffeine she's already consumed this morning.

"Happy birthday again, Charles!" Ruth says. "I'm going to go help Mom with the pancakes and send Erik back in here before he pouts too much from not getting a chance to be alone with you to wish you one, too."

Charles wiggles back down into bed, and a moment later, Erik is back in the doorway, looking slightly less put out now that Ruth is gone. He climbs into bed next to Charles and uses his powers to pull the door shut behind him.

"We only have like, ten minutes at most," he warns Charles, even as he wraps his arms around Charles' waist. "She's just turned on the stove, so it'll take a minute or two for the pan to warm up and for her to make the batter and everything and--"

Charles kisses him, slow, sleepy, and immensely pleased with himself. It's his birthday, his boyfriend's mother is making him special pancakes, he has a whole day to himself with a group of people who genuinely like him, and he has his ridiculous boyfriend in his bed, even if it's just for a few minutes.

"You haven't wished me a happy birthday yet, you know," Charles says when they part. 

"I'm going to give your present later," Erik assures him, nuzzling his neck. "Like...in private."

Charles reminds himself that they have less than ten minutes, so it's probably not an ideal time to encourage Erik to give him his present, which is likely sex-related, right now.

"I can't wait," he says, smiling and scratching his fingers across Erik's scalp.

"Happy birthday," Erik says, and then yawns and burrows his face into the crook of Charles' neck. They stay like that, just sleepily cuddling, until Mrs. Lehnsherr calls them for breakfast.

The breakfast pancakes are as delicious as they were last year, and the Lehnsherrs present him with another birthday card with another twenty dollar bill inside and a sweet inscription-- _Happy Birthday!! No matter what happens, you'll always be a part of our family._ He blinks back tears and Erik elbows him good-naturedly, rolling his eyes.

"It's Charles' birthday, be kind," Mrs. Lehnsherr chides, and puts more pancakes on both their plates. "Have fun today, boys, and we'll have cake around eight."

"But not _too much_ fun," Ruth adds, and Erik swats at her.

Soon enough, Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr are off to work and Ruth is back up in her bedroom, promising that she'll keep her headphones on until she leaves to meet up with her friends in the afternoon. Charles and Erik retreat to his room and get as far as curling up on the bed together before Erik stops Charles from taking his shirt off.

"Ruth is upstairs," he says.

"She's wearing headphones," Charles insists.

"But she'll _know_ ," Erik says, his voice dropping to a whisper.

"She already knows!" Charles says. "She's assuming we are anyway, so doesn't it make more sense to prove her right?"

Erik doesn't budge, though. Charles has to work on getting Erik over this. If for no other reason, it would really be nice to have sex in the air conditioning for a change. Not to mention Charles is starting to get worried about bug bites.

They fall back asleep for a while--and that's nice, too, drifting off with Erik's arms around him, crowded and hot as it is, with the happy edges of Erik's mind bleeding over into Charles'.

Erik wakes him up after a few hours. "Come on, you're going to waste the whole day," he says, poking Charles gently in the shoulder as Charles yawns.

"I'm pretty sure that's my right on my birthday," Charles points out.

Erik just bounces on the balls of his feet and grins. "Yeah, but I have plans for us."

Plans sound promising enough. Charles drags himself out of bed and into the shower. It's scorching outside already, so he slathers himself with sunscreen and steals one of Ruth's baseball caps from the coat rack before he heads out to meet Erik, already waiting by the car.

"Tell me more about these plans," Charles demands as Erik backs out of the driveway.

"I figure field trip, then lunch, then back to the house for your present."

By that time Ruth should be gone. Charles smiles. "What kind of field trip?"

"It's a surprise, obviously," Erik says. "That's how birthdays work." 

They drive out of the suburbs and into the city, windows down and Erik blasting what Charles thinks of as "his" playlist, the one filled with the tiny sliver of overlap in the venn diagram of their musical interests. Erik sings along and eventually Charles does too, and before long Charles starts to see enough signs that he thinks he can figure out where they're going.

"The Theodore Roosevelt Inaugural Site?" he asks.

"I went a million times in school, but parts of it are pretty cool," Erik says. "And it's weird and nerdy and interesting, like you."

"Thanks," Charles says dryly, but a smile is creeping onto his face anyway.

They join a tour group where they're the youngest by a good two or three decades. They hold hands while listening to the tour guide talk about the 1901 World's Fair and political climate. At least one of the middle-aged tourists coos at them, which ruffles Erik a little, but pleases Charles immensely. He can tell Erik has heard this all before, but appreciates that he tamps down his boredom and allows Charles to take as long as he'd like at each of the exhibits.

It's fascinating and a lot of fun. He makes Erik do all the activities and games with him, even the ones that are clearly designed for school children. Erik drags his feet, but is generally happy to comply and snaps numerous selfies of their adventures throughout the day.

"That was great," Charles tells him they they finally leave the museum. "You've obviously been there so many times you're sick of it, but I appreciate it."

"Well, I thought you'd like it," Erik says, shrugging, but he leans over and kisses Charles chastely as they head for the car.

They eat lunch at a nearby pub that's slightly classier than he thinks Erik would normally choose. Erik insists on treating, which drives Charles a little crazy, but it's his birthday and he doesn't want to fight, least of all about something so silly.

Erik is surprisingly calm as they drive home. Normally he can't wait to get home to an empty house, and Charles assumed that whatever he had planned for the afternoon must be exciting if it's a birthday surprise. He'd think that Erik would want as much time as possible alone, but Erik drives the speed limit, more or less, and sings along to the radio and looks cheerful and chill.

Charles just gets more and more curious as they turn onto the Lehnsherrs' street and pull into the driveway. Erik is similarly in no rush to get inside and only starts to look a little nervous when they get into the living room.

"Uh, you can sit down," he tells Charles, gesturing to the couch. "Do you want something to drink? There's some beer left over from the party yesterday?"

"Sure," Charles says. "Do you want to go into the bedroom?"

"No, this is good," Erik assures him. "I'll be right back."

Charles settles himself on the couch and waits. The anticipation is bubbling up pleasantly in his stomach. He folds his hands in his lap and tries not to be impatient, and mostly succeeds. It's only a minute or two before Erik returns.

Besides the beers, his hands are empty. He hands one to Charles as he sits down, and then immediately pops open his own, taking a long swallow before setting the can down on the coffee table. 

Charles doesn't think he's ever actually seen Erik drink in his parents' house before. Snuck leftover beers, sure, but always to take away to consume off site. It makes Charles even more curious about what's coming. He opens his own can and takes a sip.

"So, okay," Erik says, folding one leg up under him as he turns to face Charles fully. "You're, like, really hard to shop for, you know, and I wanted...I wanted it to be something special. So I kind of fumbled around a lot last week because, um, you know I've never done this before, and you're my boyfriend and it was a lot of pressure. But then eventually I figured out that I didn't need to buy you anything at all, you know? I could just...show you."

Erik is definitely a little nervous, and he probably practiced this speech sounding a lot more smooth than it's coming out. It's so fucking adorable Charles could puke. His cheeks hurt from smiling. 

"I think I know where this is going," Charles says. He sets down his beer on the end table, and reaches out to grab Erik's hand and twine their fingers together. He tilts his head and licks his lips, waiting for Erik to lean in for the kiss.

Instead, Erik smiles. "Okay. Yeah," he says, and then half-kneels up and grabs something from his back pocket--an envelope, which he thrusts towards Charles' chest. "Here."

Charles takes the envelope. It's blank except for his name in Erik's scribble on the front, and it's unsealed. He blinks down at it for a second. "What is this?"

"Your present, obviously," Erik says, sounding a little impatient. "It's a letter. For you. A love letter, I guess."

"Oh," Charles says, because he can't think of any other words.

He slips the paper out of the envelope and slowly unfolds it. He can feel Erik's eyes on him, watching and waiting as he begins to read. 

The letter's handwritten, in Erik's tiny chicken-scratch handwriting. It should be illegible, but Charles knows it as well as his own by now; it's as easy to read as if Erik had typed it out. He's covered about three-quarters of the page. Charles is a quick reader. It only takes a minute to finish it, but as soon as he does he's back at the top, starting it over. By the time he finishes the third readthrough he's tearing up.

"Erik," Charles says, swallowing against the lump in his throat.

Erik fidgets; he's practically vibrating in his antsiness. "Is it--do you like it? You do, right?"

"I love it."

He pulls Erik in for that kiss now, a soft, sweet thing that ends with their foreheads pressed together. 

"It's perfect," Charles says quietly. "It's the best birthday present I've ever gotten." He'll keep this forever, he's sure of it. It's...God. He _knows_ how Erik feels about him--sometimes it seems unreal that they have this together, but Erik's always been clear and open and obvious about how much he cares about Charles, both when they were best friends and now that they're together. But Erik's strong point has never been dealing with emotions, and having him put it all into words, into this tangible concrete thing for Charles to hold--it's astonishing. Overwhelming.

"Is it what you expected?" Erik says, half-smiling. His hand is stroking through Charles' hair.

"I would never have imagined this."

"I thought you said you knew what was coming."

Charles chokes out a laugh. "I thought--I thought it was a sex thing! You said you were going to give me my present _in private_ , and we have the house to ourselves, and it's been so hard to get time alone, I just figured…"

Erik's eyes go wide and his hand goes still in Charles' hair. "Wait," Erik says slowly, "wait. You thought your birthday present was my _dick_?"

The expression on Erik's face is amazing and ridiculous and beautiful, and this time Charles laughs until his belly aches. 

"Wait, wait, wait," Erik says, shoving Charles' shoulder slightly. "Would that have worked? Because I like, seriously stressed out about this."

"No, no, no," Charles says. He hugs the letter to his chest. "I love it. You can't take it back now. It's beautiful." He sobers slightly, though he's still smiling. "Honestly, I've never, ever gotten a gift as good as this, Erik. I didn't even know I wanted it." He looks down at the letter again, his fingers tracing over the words lightly, emotion bubbling up into his throat. It hits him all at once again and he has to blink back tears. Erik crawls across the couch and curls around him, a full body embrace that Charles lets himself relax into.

"I knew you'd like it," Erik says in such a way that Charles immediately knows he didn't know at all. 

"I love it, Erik," Charles assures him, swallowing back his tears. Erik kisses him again and then again, and then Charles takes over, fisting one hand in the back of Erik's shirt and the other in his hair. 

Erik pulls away enough to say, "As you pointed out, we have the house to ourselves for a few hours, so it could be, like, a two part present--"

Charles laughs and takes a moment to smooth out the letter and return it to its envelope, slipping it into the pocket on the side of his chair for safe keeping.

"I've heard a lot of good things about birthday sex, just so you know," he tells Erik. "It's set a pretty high bar."

"I can clear it easy," Erik says, leading the way back towards Charles' room, carrying their beers. 

Maybe it's the lingering euphoria and affection from reading the letter or just the excitement of his second proper birthday with the Lehnsherrs, but Erik does clear it, and then some. There's something about being with him like this, emotions bleeding together, being pinned down by Erik's heavy, intense gaze. He never wants to let go, even hours and multiple orgasms later, when he knows Mr. Lehnsherr will be home in less than half an hour.

"We have to get dressed," Erik tells him, but Erik is still drowsily tracing his freckles.

"It's my birthday, I don't want to get up," Charles says. He tugs Erik on top of him, until Erik is straddling Charles hips, balanced on his forearms, staring down at Charles. Charles memorizes his face, the way his hair is falling in his eyes, the smile curling just the edge of his mouth.

"If we get dressed, we can go somewhere private."

There's really no contest--they clean up and get dressed and get back into the car just as Mr. Lehnsherr is pulling into the driveway.

"Have fun, boys!" he calls out after them. "Cake's at eight."

They don't actually do anything more than make out that evening. They spend most of the time driving around the backroads with the windows down and the music on low. Erik holds Charles' hand the whole time and sometimes they talk and sometimes they don't, but it's mostly calm and quiet. Serene, maybe. 

"If the rest of my twenties are anything like this, they're going to be amazing," he tells Erik after dinner, when they're finally pulling back into the Lehnsherrs' driveway.

"If mine are anything to go by, the rest of this year is gonna be fucking awesome," Erik says. 

The rest of the night seems to fulfill that prediction--first the cake, delicious and complete with singing and more hugs, and then chess with Erik until Raven calls late at night to check in and give Charles her own birthday wishes. Erik falls asleep in Charles' room and only wakes up around four am to sneak back upstairs.

It's just--it's a really, really good day.

Of course, it's only logical that the next day seems a little glum in comparison. Charles should have expected as much--everything is bound to feel like a letdown after that, right? And it doesn't help any that Erik has to work the entire rest of the week, either.

His mood doesn't escape Ruth, the only person in the house. Once Charles has finished his designated chores for the week, she joins him in the kitchen, where he's picking at leftover cake and idly poking at Candy Crush on his phone.

"So," Ruth begins, plopping down into the chair beside him. "I have work, but just like a short shift. So what I'm thinking is, if you want, you could come along and just hang out in the mall for a couple hours? I mean, I figure it might be more fun than just sitting around here all day." She rolls her eyes. "You're probably getting sick of this place already."

Charles' plan for the day had been to try and start getting serious about his project. He's made the decision of what to concentrate on, and Ruth's lent him some knitting needles and odds and ends of leftover yarn, but he has yet to actually buckle down and begin. Still, this does sound more fun--he's not going to turn down a chance to go out and do things and see people. And he figures that maybe he'll even pick up a knitting book at the bookstore while he's at the mall.

"That sounds great!" Charles says, returning Ruth's smile.

"Yay!" Ruth says. "Okay, be ready in forty five minutes."

The mall is a quick drive away, and Ruth has enough time before her shift starts to give Charles something of a tour.

"The elevators are in the middle and by all the anchor stores," she says as they wander aimlessly through the first floor. "If you get bored, you can come up to the food court and we can chat as long as it isn't busy. And I can probably get you some free smoothie samples. Otherwise, it's just your basic mall. I'm off at four-ish, maybe a little after four if Alyssa is working--she's always late--or a couple minutes early if Dominic is working. I can meet you up there and we'll probably beat everyone else home."

"All of that sounds lovely," Charles says, eyeing all of the stores, two whole floors of places he can see and move about on his own. "I'm sure I'll see you sooner rather than later."

"Have fun!" Ruth says, and waves at him as she jogs over to the bank of escalators.

It's wonderful being on his own. It occurs to him as he moves through the nearly empty mid-day corridors of the mall that he hasn't been on his own somewhere other than the house since he left North Salem. When he's out, he's with Erik, and when Erik's at work, he's home. Next summer, maybe even winter break, he really needs to bring his car. It hadn't even occurred to him to bring it this summer--he doesn't bring it to school, but then, he can get anywhere on campus without it. When he started at Claremont, he assumed he could take the shuttle into town when he needed, and once he met Erik, he had transportation at the drop of a hat.

He feels cooped up spending so long in the house on his own. Even here at the mall, surrounded by dozens of stores he couldn't care less for, he's relishing the freedom of exploration, of movement. The independence of it all.

He spends a couple hours browsing the bookstore and the game store, making a few purchases out of boredom more than anything else. He gets a book on knitting for beginners and a new XBox game and some novels, then rolls in and out of the pet store, a shoe store, and a sporting goods store. He has nothing else he really needs, and window shops until he's hungry. Up in the food court, he waves at Ruth and then gets some pizza and a soda and settles into a table next to the smoothie place. 

He seems to have missed the lunch rush and the food court is quiet enough that he can chat a little with Ruth as he eats, showing off his purchases and getting her advice on knitting projects.

"Crochet is just one stick, and it's a hook rather than a needle," she says. She's leaning against the counter on her forearms. "It's actually kind of easier? But really different. So, since you've already started knitting, I say stick with that for now, and once you've mastered it, I'll teach you crochet too."

"That sounds reasonable," Charles says. They spot the incoming customer at the same moment, and Charles angles himself away from the counter as Ruth straightens up and puts on a bright smile.

"Hi, there!" she says. "Welcome to The Smoothie Shack! How can I help you today?"

It will never cease to amaze Charles how different Ruth and Erik are. Ruth seems right at home here, giving customers big smiles and chatting with them about sports and movies and the weather and the latest fashions. Three minutes in a job like this and Charles would have to bail Erik out of jail.

"Do I know you from somewhere?" the customer asks Ruth. Charles turns back just a little to watch the conversation. The woman is staring at Ruth curiously and Ruth is still smiling back at her, albeit a little perplexed right now.

"I don't think so?" Ruth says. "How can I help you?"

"Oh!" the woman says. "Oh, of course. I'm so sorry. I remember now--you're the Lehnsherr girl."

Ruth's smile doesn't falter, but Charles can feel the way her mind immediately starts to...bristle is the only word he can come up with. He doesn't quite understand her reaction. He figures that the woman must recognize her from one of the newspaper articles he's seen clippings of at the house, or maybe even from the pictures Mrs. Lehnsherr keeps at her desk at the dentist's office--but no, that doesn't make sense either. The woman seems embarrassed and maybe even pitying, even as her curiosity increases.

"I hope your brother is doing well," the woman says. "You know, we used to have him in our prayer circle when everything was happening."

Charles can imagine exactly how Erik would react to being included in a prayer circle. It would probably involve a dead-eyed stare, a reminder of his Judaism, and the hope to make the other person feel as awkward as possible.

"He's very well, thank you," Ruth says, in a tone that's not at all rude, but is definitely closer to brisk than Charles has ever seen her be with customers. "Do you know what you'd like to order?"

Charles probably shouldn't be being this nosy, but he can't help taking another tiny peek, enough to see that the woman is still just as intrigued. But she follows Ruth's lead, ordering something full of tangerine and mango before heading back down and out of the food court.

It's a strange encounter. It reminds Charles suddenly of the cop who caught them trespassing in the field--he had forgotten about that, but this has made it jump to the top of his mind again. There's something he's missing here. He considers it as he finishes his food and watches Ruth serve a sudden rush of awkward middle schoolers who can't seem to make up their minds.

"Does that happen a lot?" he asks Ruth, once she's free of customers.

"What, thirteen year old boys staring creepily at my rack?" Ruth says. "More often than I'd like, unfortunately."

Charles shakes his head. "No, I meant--the woman before that. The one who recognized you."

"Oh," Ruth says, grimacing. She hesitates for a moment, and Charles waits patiently. "It doesn't happen as much as it used to," Ruth says after a few seconds. "But...I mean, I don't know how much Erik told you about stuff."

 _Stuff_. Oh. There's something in the way Ruth says it that makes Charles feel like an idiot for not realizing it sooner. Of course it would be about Shaw.

"He told me enough," Charles says quietly. In the dark, holding hands, words that sounded ripped from Erik's throat almost against his will, sometimes. Enough for Charles to fill in a lot of blanks.

"Well, you can imagine it was a pretty big deal around here," Ruth says. "The arrest and the trial and everything... People remember."

Charles thinks about Erik, about his pride and the things he keeps private and how he interacts with people. The thought of so many strangers knowing that about him, the worst thing in his life, and pitying him for it, what that must mean for him...Fuck.

Charles' stomach aches.

"He must hate that," he murmurs, swallowing hard. "It must kill him."

"Well," Ruth says, leaning forward on her forearms again, "yes and no. You know Erik--he has the emotional intelligence of a head of cabbage."

Charles thinks about the love letter sitting on his dresser back at the house, the one that makes him swoon just thinking about it.

"I don't know that I would necessarily agree with that," he says.

"Well, with people he doesn't know," Ruth amends. "He's insane about the people he loves, but he's so oblivious to people he doesn't care about. I think that sometimes the comments just honestly go over his head."

Before she can say anything more, a mother with two kids starts to approach the smoothie stand. Charles wheels back towards his table as Ruth greets them cheerfully. It's nearly the end of her shift--they can talk more later.

A few minutes before four, a boy with dark brown skin, a scraggly attempt at facial hair, and earbuds plugged into his ears shows up wearing the same bright orange apron and hat as Ruth. He chats with her for a moment, and then she ducks into the back and reappears moments later around the side of the smoothie stand, her apron and hat draped over her shoulder and two smoothies in her hands. She shakes out her hair and rolls her shoulders and then joins Charles at his table.

"I'm probably gonna get sick of these things eventually, but it hasn't happened yet," she tells him. She hands him one of the cups. "That one is almond milk, banana, honey, and cinnamon. We made it up--it's pretty great."

"Thank you," Charles says, and takes a sip. She wasn't lying--it's delicious.

"Anyway," she says. "The thing with Erik--it happens less than it used to. And, like I was saying, him...being the way he is about other people, if they're not super explicit about it, he tends to ignore them. But, especially right after it happened, there was definitely a lot of...um, I don't know. Rubberneckers, I guess. Who would talk to him about it and stop him in shops and things to tell him how sorry they were. And he was...well, he didn't go out, for a while. Not if he could help it. I don't know. We're not super close, but I know him, you know? And I could tell how much he hated it, but there wasn't anything I could do except...step in before they could get to him and tell them off. And tell off the people at school and the teachers who were trying to baby him and the parents of my friends and...anyone I could see about to give him a pity party, I tried to stop it. But I was just a kid--I was younger than him and I didn't entirely understand what had happened. I did what I could, but there was only so much a thirteen year old could do, you know?"

She stops and takes a long sip of her smoothie, not looking at Charles. 

"I'm sure you did what you could--more than you needed to, even," he tells her. 

"I guess," she says. She rubs the back of her neck, still looking away. Erik has the same tell, the same awkward mannerism when he gets uncomfortable. Ruth doesn't look like Erik much--she's short and slight like Mrs. Lehnsherr, with more red in her hair than Erik. Still, in that moment, all Charles can see are the similarities between them.

"I'm sure your parents appreciated it too," he adds.

"Well." She looks back up at him, her mouth twisted into a half-smile. "Things were...rough for a while. I don't know if Erik has told you about that. I don't know if Erik _knows_ about that, you know? He was...pretty messed up for a while. But Mom and Dad were messed up too. They fought a lot more. I don't think I'd ever seen them really fight before that. Mom wanted to put Erik in private school, but we really couldn't afford it, I guess, and they did this thing where...like, they had to give Erik all this attention and all this emotional energy and all this support, but they didn't want me to feel like I wasn't important? So, like, they'd spend a weekend taking Erik to therapy and court and all this other stuff and I'd stay with a friend and then I'd come home and one of them would take me out to dinner or to a movie I wanted to see or buy me something they knew I wanted, like they were trying really hard to make it seem even. It was really weird. It was really hard."

Charles doesn't know what to say, so he just nods, trying to keep a supportive expression on his face, and sips his smoothie.

"Obviously it's a lot better now," Ruth says. "I mean, it's not like anybody just sits around and mopes about it, you know? Stuff happens and you deal with it. And Erik's...good. He's good. But...I don't know. It's weird, because I know I'm the little sister and Erik's really tough, at the core, but I still feel--protective, I guess, is the word."

"I get that," Charles tells her. "I totally, one hundred percent get that."

Ruth's mouth quirks into something that's almost a smile. "Yeah, I know you do. We all know you do. And I think that's part of--I mean, we can tell how much you care about Erik, you know. My parents, my mom, still worry about him like, all the time, I think, even though she's pretty good at being subtle about it. And I think it makes her feel better knowing he has you, seeing him happy around you."

Charles can feel his face flushing. It's not embarrassment, exactly, but...it's a lot. This is heavier than any of the marriage jokes were, more concrete. He wants to assure Ruth, the Lehnsherrs, exactly how much all of it is true, all the things he'd do for Erik, but that's not the sort of thing you can say. That's not a normal conversation. 

"I'm glad he's happy, too," Charles finally manages to say.

"Yeah," Ruth says. "Well, I guess we might as well enroll you into our secret club now. I call it the 'protect Erik from dummies and worry about him a lot' society. My mom's the president, but we have a slot open for treasurer. We meet on Sundays. Bring snacks." Ruth plays with her straw a little. "You ready to head back to the house?"

"Yeah," Charles says, and he follows her across the mall and back to the parking lot and the car.

On the ride home, Ruth blasts the radio and cheerfully sings along. Charles has nearly forgotten what it's like to hear music he recognizes playing in a car, and joins her for the majority of the trip. Once they're back at the house, Ruth disappears upstairs to shower, then joins Charles on the couch, where they play _Wheel of Fortune_ on the XBox until Mrs. Lehnsherr and Erik arrive home.

"Dinner's in an hour," Mrs. Lehnsherr says after kissing Ruth and Charles both on the cheek. "I'm going to go change."

"Me too," Erik says, but Charles grabs his hand before he can follow his mother up the stairs.

"Wait," Charles says. He tugs on Erik's hand. "Come here."

Erik obeys and allows Charles to pull him down until he's straddling Charles' lap. Ruth smiles and goes into the kitchen, leaving them alone with only the music of the XBox in the background.

"My mom is like, right upstairs," Erik warns him.

"I know," Charles says. "I just--" He's not sure what to say without breaking all sorts of confidences, so he pulls on Erik's suspenders until he's close enough for a kiss. He makes it soft and affectionate and warm rather than the start of anything heavier, and Erik relaxes into him, slumping against Charles.

"Hi," Erik says, resting his head on Charles' shoulder when they break apart and twisting his neck so he can mostly look up at Charles from his new position.

"Hi," Charles says. "I love you, you know. Immensely."

"I do know, yeah," Erik says. "It's kind of our whole thing."

Charles laughs and jostles Erik's hat off, catching it and placing it on his own head instead. Erik just grins up at him, clearly perplexed but either too lazy or too content to pursue it right now.

"You're fucking weird sometimes, you know that?" he says fondly.

Mrs. Lehnsherr descends the stairs behind them, and Erik makes to move off of Charles' lap. Charles curves his hand around the back of Erik's neck, stilling him, even as he blushes at his mother's imminent discovery of their cuddle.

"Just, stay a moment," Charles says, and Erik does, even when Mrs. Lehnsherr pauses at the edge of the couch and smiles at them.

"I'm glad this summer is going so well," she says to them, then reaches out to stroke Erik's hair on her way to join Ruth in the kitchen.

"See?" Charles asks. "That wasn't the end of the world."

"Oh, shut up," Erik says, but he kisses Charles again, so he thinks he's probably gotten his point across.


	10. Erik

It takes a month, but by the middle of July, the combination of Charles' (gentle, but persistent) encouragement and his own sheer desperation and impatience wears Erik down. There's just not enough time to themselves, and Erik's started to get worried about what the discomfort of lying on the ground outside so much is doing to Charles' back. And obviously, just _not_ having sex isn't an option, either, so, yeah--he gives in. 

He's started spending most of the night in Charles' room, anyway. He falls asleep there almost every night and Charles wakes him up in the early morning hours to make sure he's back upstairs before other people start to get up. So it's not like Erik isn't already there in the middle of night when everyone else is asleep, curled up around a warm and happy Charles. Fuck, he has a hard-on half the time _anyway_.

"We have to be really quiet," Erik warns Charles as he kneels up over Charles' waist.

Charles grins up at him, wide and eager and ridiculous. He's already practically torn off Erik's shirt, throwing it to the floor, which Charles never does. _I'm excellent at being quiet_ , he says mentally, and then smirks.

Charles usually is pretty quiet, actually. He makes a lot of noises, but they're usually soft ones, like these little sexy whimpers and moans that Erik has to pay attention to so he doesn't miss a thing. Sometimes he says Erik's name a little loudly at the end, especially when Erik's fucking him, but in general he's a lot more likely to scratch up Erik's back or gnaw up his own lower lip than he is to yell. 

Erik's mom and dad are pretty deep sleepers, anyway. And they're a whole floor away.

"Okay," Erik says breathlessly, right before he pulls off Charles' pajama pants.

Afterwards he goes to the kitchen to get them ice pops and a ginger ale for Charles. Charles is still naked when he gets back, but sitting up now. His hair is _epically_ messed up and his mouth is really swollen and he looks smug and pleased and one of these days, Erik thinks, he's going to get over this thing where he keeps getting overwhelmed by how fucking hot Charles is. He has to get used to it eventually, right? 

He climbs back into the bed and hands Charles his ice pop and soda. There is literally no place in the world Erik would rather be than right here, which is a fucking awesome feeling.

"Have I ever told you that you're, like, amazing at sex?" Erik says conversationally as he settles in and gets comfortable, cross legged on Charles' comforter. "Like, wow."

Charles laughs. It's hard to tell, because his face and neck and chest are still kind of flushed in the way they always get when he and Erik are messing around, but Erik thinks his cheeks might even get a little pinker. "Shut up."

"I'm totally serious!" Erik insists. "At first I thought it might just be because I thought you were so hot, that anything you did would be better than anyone else, but that's not all of it. It's not just how I feel, it's that you know things."

Now Charles is definitely blushing beneath his post-orgasm flush.

"Alright, I'll tell you a secret, but it's really embarrassing, okay?" Charles says. "Really, really embarrassing."

Erik isn't sure how Charles can be embarrassed about any of this, but he sits back dutifully and eats his ice pop, watching Charles and waiting for him to continue.

"You know, before Hank, I'd never...had sex with a guy before," Charles says. Erik nods. They'd talked about it a few times, both when generally talking about sex early in their friendship and when talking about the politics of sexual identity--Erik had reassured Charles a bunch of times that he didn't have to have sex with a guy to know he was bisexual, despite what some assholes might say or think.

"Well," Charles continues, "I guess I was...nervous about that. And I think Hank was too, or at least curious, so we sort of purposely set out to try everything and figure everything out. And it was fun and I'm glad we did it in the name of scientific inquiry and all that, but I can't pretend a little part of it wasn't out of fear that if you ever did decide you liked me, I wouldn't have any idea what to do."

Every time he gets reminded that Charles understood his feelings way before Erik understood his own, it's like a little wave of sadness crashes over him. Charles was right, of course, when he said all those weeks ago that their relationship wouldn't be nearly as good and lasting and true if they hadn't been friend-crazy about each other first, but it still makes him sad to think of all that lost time. To think that Charles thought he was alone.

"I wouldn't have like, held it against you," Erik promises him. "Some of the guys I dated weren't super experienced, but that really didn't matter that much. And for you--I'd have done anything."

Charles smiles at him, but he still looks embarrassed.

"I know," he says. "It was totally illogical. But it _did_ encourage me to learn everything I could. Especially, too, because my body doesn't always work the same way as everyone else's, you know?"

"I'm glad you did," Erik says. "You shouldn't be embarrassed, that's like, really cool." And, if they're being totally honest with each other... "It's kind of, um, intimidating sometimes? Not in a bad way. Just like...you know so much and you're so good and you're so hot and...I mean, I know I'm hot, too, but...I don't know. It's weird. But I like it. I like it a lot."

Charles looks really surprised, but also pleased, which means that telling him that was definitely the right call, Erik thinks. "Really?"

"Yeah," Erik says. "Like...the first time you showed me your toy bin I didn't know what half that stuff was, you know? Not even from porn." He kind of half-shrugs. His popsicle is starting to drip a little, so he has to lick off his wrist. 

"Huh," Charles says thoughtfully. He's still pink, but it's fading now. "That's funny. I guess...I just think of you, thought of you, as having all this experience all this time, you know? It never occurred to me that it might be like that for you. That's...kind of cool." 

He grins at Erik, and then sucks in his ice pop--Erik can't tell if he's purposely doing it in a way to show off his mouth and tongue and stuff, or if Erik's just noticing it because they're already thinking about sex, but he guesses it doesn't really matter. Next time Charles seems a little jealous of any of Erik's dumb exes, maybe Erik can just remind him that Charles gives head a million times better than any of them.

Maybe. It might not be a good idea. It probably depends on what kind of mood Charles is in.

"Maybe when we get back to school we can pick a new toy," Charles suggests, "and then figure it out and explore it together."

"Well, I mean, college is supposed to be all about new learning experiences, right?" Erik says, and Charles laughs and kisses Erik quick and soft with his sweet icy mouth.

They've gotten into a pretty set routine, past the halfway point of the summer. Erik works a couple days a week while Charles reads and emails with friends and knits (Erik is going to have a different objectively-kind-of-crappy scarf for every day of the week this winter). On Erik's days off they go driving, exploring whatever new places they can find and spending a lot of time just on their own doing nothing. 

They hang out with Erik's family a lot on weekends, games and movie nights and family dinners and all that shit. Charles loves it, and Erik can admit he does, too. He likes how much Charles loves it. A lot of people their age would think it was lame, he's pretty sure. And, like, Erik still needs a lot of time on his own and everything--the itchy feeling in the small of his back shows up when his parents get too overbearing and constant, but...it doesn't happen that often. They're pretty good at giving him space when he needs it, and--well, Erik does wonder sometimes if it would be different if the stuff with Shaw didn't happen, if he'd want to be around them as much if he hadn't been so scared about them then. But that stuff did happen, so whatever.

He thinks sometimes that the worst thing about it wasn't the abuse or the manipulation. It wasn't Shaw hurting him or threatening him or even Shaw threatening his family. Sure, at the time that stuff gave him nightmares that he still has sometimes, but he mostly doesn't have to deal with that stuff day to day. There are only a few scars left behind on the outside--Shaw was always careful not to leave marks if he could help it--and he doesn't get as angry or sad or scared as he used to. It's been an age since he went outside and felt like there were so many people that he couldn't breathe. By senior year of high school, he didn't even get dizzy every time he walked by the guidance department anymore.

But it's still hard to deal with having all of his...his _stuff_...having it all public. All his feelings and thoughts and fears and all of the things that he told Shaw that were supposed to be secret. Everyone knows them. His parents, the police, the judges, the juries, all the lawyers and the people in the room. His lawyer promised that everything he said was sealed and private, but he doesn't know how much he believes that, and besides, the damage is already done--a million people already know.

It should be his to tell people, his to keep, but he doesn't get that choice. And he knows it's a good thing that he told his parents about Shaw and it's definitely a good thing that Shaw is in prison now, but he hates having it out there. Strangers know. The one time he covered for his mom on the front desk when he first started working for Dr. Friedman, some lady made a point of telling him how sorry she was about it all and how strong he was and a whole bunch of other bullshit. She didn't even know him! He barely even remembers what he said or did in response--all he remembers is the anger, the all-encompassing kind that used to swallow him up before his parents made him start going to see Tracey once a week, and the next thing he remembers is his mom and Dr. Friedman sitting with him in the office, calming him down and giving him a soda and Dr. Friedman telling him that he was so sorry, and that he wouldn't have Erik work the desk anymore.

Strangers shouldn't know. It should be his. 

But even beyond strangers, he sort of hates it that his parents know. Tracey told him about a million times that it wasn't his fault, that he shouldn't feel weak, and he knows that. Sort of. And he doesn't. Mostly. But...if he had been stronger, if he could have handled it on his own...maybe all of this would still be private. Maybe his parents wouldn't still look at him funny sometimes, like they were trying to tell just by looking if he was alright. Maybe he wouldn't catch his mom hovering and asking a million questions about how he's feeling and just...worrying, quietly, like she thinks he can't tell.

It's too much sometimes. He has to go for a drive or a run or...be somewhere else, alone.

It's been better this summer. With Charles around, his parents hardly ever give him those looks or fall into those awkward silences. He still needs to break away to have time alone, even from Charles, but not nearly as much as he did last summer, when he went on a long run every night and sometimes spent hours driving around so he wouldn't have to see his parents before bed.

It'll be good to be back at school, though. He hadn't realized what a difference it would be when he left. Even after he got there, he didn't realize it for a while, but it made a lot of sense when he figured it out. At school, people don't know unless he tells them. They look at him and see what he chooses to share with them, what he says and what he does. Kind of like what he told Raven, the night around the firepit--it's always going to be a part of him, but he gets to choose what to shout out.

If Erik hadn't gotten the scholarship to Claremont, his back-up was SUNY Buffalo. He had dreaded that just because he didn't want to live with his parents all year to save money, but now when he thinks about it he can't imagine how bad it would have been, not getting to go away and just--be himself, whoever that is, without the other stuff hanging over him.

It might have been bad enough for them to send him back to Tracey. God. In retrospect, Erik can be really grateful at his parents for forcing him into therapy--if they hadn't, he would probably be a lot more fucked up than he is now--and he can even be grateful to Tracey. But at the time, every session was absolute hell. Like tweezing tiny slivers of glass out of your hand.

Maybe that's part of why he's being kind of weird about Charles now, even. The privacy thing. Everyone else thinks it's silly, and it's not that they're wrong, but...if everybody knows everything about him here, it feels important to have something of his own. Especially something as important and central and vital as Charles. At school he wants to show off Charles, how lucky he is and how into each other they are; he doesn't care or mind if people see.

But at home...Erik guesses everything is just closer to the edge of his skin. And Charles--what he and Charles have--seems precious.

He doesn't know how to explain that, though, not even to Charles. So if everybody just thinks it's him being an embarrassed dork, well, that's fine, too. It's at least partly true.

Erik's not as bad about it now as he was when he and Charles first got here, anyway. They can cuddle and hold hands and stuff in front of his family and he doesn't want to hide. And his family might tease, but not as much as before.

Ruth still laughs at him the most. "See," she says one day at lunch, when the three of them are all home together. "This is what I'm talking about. Your porny artistic shots."

She waves her phone at him. Erik can't actually see the screen from across the table, but he figures she has to be talking about his latest Instagram picture.

"You don't think that's artistic?" Erik says. "I think that filter looks awesome."

"It's a close up of your boyfriend's mouth and tongue licking an ice cream cone," Ruth says.

"Artistically," Charles butts in.

"It's artistically gross," Ruth says, pulling a face. 

"You're artistically gross," Erik says automatically.

"What he means to say," Charles says, smirking at him, "is that one day you'll have someone you want to be artistically gross about."

"I hope so," she says. "Honestly, I was way too busy to date in high school, but also, none of the boys in high school were really up to my standards."

"Yeah, I feel you, that place was kind a shit hole," Erik agrees.

"Right?" Ruth says. "Ugh, is it so much to ask to be taken out somewhere nice and wooed?"

"Men are terrible," Charles says, patting her hand, and Erik suddenly remembers his panic spiral around Charles' birthday. Does Charles want to be taken out somewhere nice and wooed?

"Especially when they're posting gross photos on their Instagram and they're your brother," Ruth says, and Erik flips her off as Charles starts to laugh again.

Not long after, Erik excuses himself to use the restroom. When he comes back, Ruth and Charles pause mid-sentence and Ruth abruptly announces she's just remembered some meeting or another with some of her friends. She grabs her purse and phone and heads out, and something is weird about it, but it leaves them alone in the house for a whole afternoon, so he doesn't think about it too closely. They make the most of it in Charles' bedroom, and Erik puts the whole date thing out of his mind again, at least for the rest of the night.

The morning is another story.

It's always difficult to get out of bed with Charles, but it's extra difficult when he's doing it at five-thirty in the morning so he can be back in his own bed before his parents wake up. They hadn't even stayed up until the middle of the night to have sex, thanks to Ruth's impromptu exit in the afternoon, it's just so fucking early. Charles blinks up at him with his big, sleepy blue eyes and Erik almost gives up on going to work and crawls back into bed, but he somehow stays strong and kisses Charles one last time before slipping out of the room and back upstairs to his own.

He has an hour left until his alarm will go off and normally he uses it to try and catch a little more sleep, but this morning his mind drifts back to Charles and Dates-with-a-capital-D. It might be nice, right? It would be cool to bring Charles somewhere specifically as his boyfriend, to do something with him beyond their usual random hanging out and driving around. They haven't really done anything outside of their usual routine since they got together, after all, and he knows that Charles used to go out places and do things with Moira and Hank when they were dating. (He mostly knows that because Charles would have to remind him that he wasn't invited along because it was a _date_.) It might show Charles he's serious. He's pretty sure Charles knows he's in this for forever, but...well, Charles deserves to be treated well. He deserves a nice dinner or whatever, a nice proper fancy date.

If that's what he wants, anyway. Maybe he doesn't want a fancy dinner. Maybe he should take Charles to the fair or something. Or, no, the fair probably isn't accessible. Well, the rides aren't, but the midway might be. Does Charles even care about the fair? Has Charles ever been to Niagara Falls? The New York side isn't like, the one in books and on postcards, but it's pretty great, and there's another museum there. Charles _loves_ nerdy shit like that.

His mind spins through idea after idea, looping back around to things he's already thought about and weighing the pros and cons of each, basically turning his mind into a tangled mess that he's too tired to pick through until after he has some coffee.

Finally Erik gives up and heads into the shower, ten minutes before his alarm's set to go off. It's lucky his routine's so ingrained in him by this point; it doesn't really take any thought or focus to wash, dress, walk downstairs into the kitchen, throw his tupperware containers into a lunchbag and eat a banana while the coffee brews.

Not for the first time, he wonders if there's a way to use his powers to make the coffee go faster. He's been tempted to try it before--it might not work, but if the experiment has any chance of succeeding it could still be worth it. Except that there's _also_ the very faint chance that his powers might break the machine, in which case Erik really isn't sure which of his mom or Ruth would kill him first. (It probably wouldn't be his dad, at least. His dad would just look tragically disappointed while he played with his mustache, and sigh. Which would be basically just as bad as killing Erik.)

His mom is the next one downstairs. She looks a little surprised to see Erik--usually she's the first one up. "Good morning, sweetie," she says. "You're looking a bit rough today."

She has to pass by where he's leaning against the counter to get to the fridge, and she stops to kiss his cheek and ruffle his hair as she does so. Erik isn't sure what it is, but his mom loves messing up his hair. If it was anyone else it would be annoying, but it's his mom, so he kind of just has to tolerate it. He'll have time to fix it before they leave the house anyway.

"You don't think I look good?" Erik says, looking down at himself doubtfully. This is the first time he's worn this shirt since he altered it a little last week, and he'd thought it looked pretty awesome, especially with these pants. 

His mom chuckles. "You are my gorgeous baby boy, as always. You just look tired this morning."

"Oh." Erik shrugs. "I'm always tired in the mornings. I'll be better with the coffee."

"Mm-hmm," Mom says. She's finished putting her own lunch together and sets her bag next to Erik's on the counter before reaching to the cabinet to pull down two mugs. She hands the Mickey Mouse one to Erik and keeps the one with a dumb joke about housework for herself. "So you slept okay?"

This is the sort of thing that grates on Erik sometimes, the casual careful questions. It doesn't bug him too much this morning, though. He might as well tell her the truth. 

"I woke up early and couldn't fall asleep again," Erik explains. The coffee's finally ready; he fills his mug and dumps in a few heaping spoonfuls of sugar before getting out of the way so Mom can serve herself. "Too many thoughts, you know? Not bad thoughts," he clarifies quickly, "but stuff." 

He hesitates a moment as he watches his mom sit down at the table. For all that she's always lectured Erik and Ruthie about the importance of a good breakfast, half the time she doesn't do anything but drink her coffee before they leave. Erik usually tries to buy her a bagel or something at Starbucks when he goes, because if he leaves it at her desk then she'll be guilted into eating it so his money isn't wasted.

"Before you and Dad got married, what kind of places did you used to go on dates?" Erik asks, trying to sound kind of casual, like maybe he's just curious and not asking for any specific reason.

"Oh, lots of places," Mom says. She smiles. "We'd go to the movies a lot--the second-run place that used to be down by Tops. We'd go to the Saturday matinees and I'd sneak in a package of Oreos in my purse instead of wasting money on concessions. There was a restaurant over by your grandparents' house where my friend Elsie used to work, and whenever we went there she'd sneak us free drinks or appetizers. We'd go to parties with the kids we went to high school with. Sometimes in the summer we'd ride our bikes together or drive out somewhere and go hiking…"

Mom's still smiling and reminiscing, her face gone a little soft. Which is nice for her--and, like, maybe they get mushy sometimes, but Erik's glad his parents are still in love and everything.

Still, all of those suggestions are pretty much totally useless for Erik's purposes. Places that don't exist anymore, people he doesn't know, things Charles physically can't do. He could take Charles to a movie, he guesses, but he already thought about that and rejected it when he was thinking about Charles' birthday, so.

They drink their coffee quietly for a couple minutes, until Dad comes down, humming some pop song that Ruth and Charles like (they have such garbage taste in music), and joins them.

"Any particular reason you were asking about dates?" Mom asks, because she has the _worst_ timing. Dad glances at him, clearly interested.

"Dates?" he asks.

"Erik was just asking what we used to do on dates before we were married," Mom says.

"Ah, the fond memories of free food from Elsie and making out at the movies," Dad says, and Erik scrunches his face up.

"Ugh," he says.

"Trying to come up with some fun places to take Charles?" Dad asks. "I guess it's hard for you guys to sit in the back of the movie theatre with Charles' wheelchair. Too bad."

"Jake," Mom says, but Erik's already buried his face in his arms.

"What? It's not like he doesn't know that's what we used to do."

"Oh my god," Erik says. It's way, way too early to think about his parents making out in the back of a movie theatre.

"Leave him be," Mom says, but he can tell she's laughing a little. "Come on, Erik, let's get going."

He doesn't move until he hears his parents finish kissing goodbye--he has enough emotional trauma from them today, thanks--and then stands and stretches and bolts the last of his coffee before grabbing his bag and following his mom out to the car.

It's not a long drive to Dr. Friedman's office--maybe fifteen minutes--but about halfway there, his mom glances over at him consideringly and he suddenly wills it to go faster. He knows that look.

"I think that Charles is pretty happy with whatever you've done so far," she says. He can't escape the moving car, as much as he wants to, so he leans his head against the window and closes his eyes. "But it's always nice to know that someone's put a little effort into doing something special for you."

Erik sighs, but doesn't move, even when he speaks.

"When he was dating...other people...they definitely like, went out together," he says. He can feel himself blushing. "I just thought...it might be nice to take him somewhere. To do something together that's not, like, what we always do all day. That's all."

"That's very sweet," Mom says, and he doesn't tear the car in half and run for the hills, which he should definitely get a lot of credit for, he thinks. "I'm sure anything you come up with will make him happy, as long as you're there with him."

Thankfully, before she can talk much more, they're at the Starbucks down the block from the office. Erik unbuckles his seatbelt so fast it almost hits him in the face.

"Thanks, Mom, see you in a few," he says quickly and grabs his bag and ducks out of the car. There's not much of a line today, but he lingers for a few extra minutes just to get himself back together before heading into work, buoyed by a giant iced coffee, a muffin, and a breakfast sandwich for his mom. He stops a couple doors down from the office and lingers in front of the Italian restaurant there. It's newish--they went as a family right after it opened, which was the summer after he graduated. It's nice-ish, but not like, super fancy, and the entrance is level with the side walk. He remembers it being roomy inside and busy but not packed.

He files that information away in his brain and jogs the last few yards to the office. His mom is on the phone already, luckily, so he leaves her sandwich on her desk and goes to his own office without having to deal with anymore of her meddling. 

Erik's pretty awake by now, at least. He has his coffee and there's a new episode of his favorite music podcast on his iPod and plenty of work to do, so it's not _too_ hard to focus. Charles is still asleep by the time Erik takes his first break--or at least Erik assumes he is, since he hasn't texted Erik yet. Erik goes ahead and takes a bathroom selfie (the lighting's better in there than by his desk, so it makes up for the ugly walls) and sends it along to greet Charles as soon as he wakes up. It's another hour before Charles replies, but he's obviously in a good mood when he does, and he spends the rest of the morning quoting Erik the best bits from the book he's reading.

Mom doesn't bring up the date thing again at lunch. She's mostly busy on a phone call with Erik's aunt Sarah, who is having another one of her weird crises that seem to happen, like, every other month. So Erik has time to think to himself about it while he eats. 

The conclusion he comes to, finally, is that he's thinking about it too much. He should just make a decision and _do_ it, right? That's how Erik usually does things, and it mostly works out for him. Things are different with a lot of this stuff with Charles, but that's just...he wants to do this _right_. But that means he ends up with these dumb frozen uncertainties just going over the same thing in his head over and over, and it hurts his head. 

The Italian restaurant is a good idea. It will probably be fine. And if it's not--well, he can always pretend it was just them hanging out again and try again for a real date. Something like that.

"Charles and I are going out tonight for dinner," Erik tells Mom on the way home from work. He keeps his eyes on the road so he doesn't have to see the knowing smirk that he's pretty sure she has on her face, so he can pretend she doesn't know everything.

Dad's home before them, and he and Charles are in the kitchen playing checkers by the time Erik and Mom get there. 

"The boys are going out to dinner tonight," Mom says, slipping into the seat next to Dad and turning her gaze on the game board.

"We are?" Charles says, looking up at Erik with an interested expression. Erik nods.

"Hmm, well, Ruth texted to let me know she's spending the night at Ashley's," Dad says, "so it sounds like it's just you and me for dinner, Edie." He raises his eyebrows at Mom meaningfully.

"That's exciting. Maybe we should order in and have our own date night, what do you think?"

"Sounds good to me." Dad wraps his arm around Mom's shoulder and turns to Erik. "Feel free to take your time getting back home, Erik."

"Okay, gross," Erik says, shaking his head, "but sure. Come on, Charles, let's get out of here before they get worse."

The food at the restaurant is good, and Charles seems to like it, and it's fun, which is everything Erik wanted. But by the end of dinner Erik's feeling kind of weird and he can't put his finger on exactly why. Everything's good, but...it doesn't feel any different than spending time with Charles usually does.

He tries to grab the check before Charles does--that's another date thing, right?--but Charles gives him a super bitchy look.

"You're not paying," Charles says firmly.

"It was my idea, it should be my treat," Erik says.

Charles starts to say something, but he stops almost immediately and just rolls his eyes instead. "Let's just split it evenly, all right?"

By the time they get back out to the car, Erik can't help feeling a little bummed. He tries to hide it and be normal, but of course Charles notices anyway, because that's how Charles is.

"You okay?" he says, from the passenger seat, once they're buckled in. "You were in a good mood earlier, but you seem a little weird."

"I'm fine," Erik says automatically, and then immediately follows it with: "Mostly. I am fine. It's just--I wanted that to be awesome and it wasn't. It doesn't matter. I'll find something else."

Charles furrows his brow. "I thought we had fun."

"We did!" Erik says. "Just...it was the same kind of fun we always have. It was just like always."

"And you...don't like the stuff we always do?" Charles says slowly.

"Of course I like the stuff we always do," Erik says. "The stuff we always do is awesome! But we should be, like, going on dates, and this is just hanging out. I'm doing it wrong."

Charles closes his eyes. Erik watches him and counts to five before Charles opens them again. "Explain to me what you think the difference between hanging out and going on a date is, please."

Erik gestures vaguely out the windshield. "Dates are...special. Like the winning and wooing you and Ruth talked about. I haven't done that for you, and I should, because…" Because he wants to be a good boyfriend. 

He really doesn't know how to explain to Charles how much he wants to get things _right_. It's only partly because he thinks he knows the look Charles will give him.

"We go out all the time," Charles says. "We go out to eat, we go out driving, at school we went to the mall and lecture series and all sorts of things."

"Those don't count as dates," Erik says, shaking his head. "We did that stuff before we were together."

"The only difference I see between a date and hanging out is romantic intent," Charles says. "Dates are hanging out with bonus kissing potential."

It makes Erik smile, even if he's not completely convinced yet. He says, sounding more uncertain than he would like to, "You used to go on dates with Moira and Hank."

"Well, yes," Charles allows, "and you do realize in large part the definition of a date in those cases was 'outing to which Erik is not invited'?" 

Erik snorts, and Charles smiles at him fondly. He reaches out to rest his hand on top of Erik's between their seats. 

"Why do you keep stressing about these things?"

Erik stares out the window again. He lets Charles turn his hand over so they can interlock their fingers, but he thinks for a long, quiet moment before he speaks, trying to pull apart all the conflicting emotions and anxieties in his mind.

"I want to be a good boyfriend," he says eventually. "I want to...you're really important to me. So, so important. And I just want you to have everything--everything you want to do, everything you want me to be. I want to give it all to you because...because I want you to be happy. I want you to be as happy as you make me. I want this to be everything you want it to be, everything you imagined it would be before I got my shit together and realized how in love with you I am. I don't know."

Charles strokes the back of Erik's hand with his thumb, smooth and soothing and constant, until Erik finally decides he won't turn bright red or freak out or die of embarrassment if Charles sees his face. He turns slowly and then raises his eyes to look at Charles.

Charles isn't smirking or sighing or giving Erik the look he sometimes gives when he thinks Erik's being ridiculous. Erik actually can't figure out Charles' expression at first--it's complicated and gentle and almost...sad.

"Every single thing about being with you is better than I ever imagined it would be," Charles says firmly, but gently, like he wants to take Erik's face between his hands so he can't look away until he understands what Charles is trying to say. "I'm so happy, Erik. I swear to you, you don't have to do anything but be yourself. That's who I fell in love with. I don't want some romance movie hero who likes going to fancy restaurants all the time or whatever you're getting this from. I want you, who likes to go to mutant studies lectures with me and take me to weird museums and drive around all night without talking and stay up all night talking about everything. It's nice, yes, to go out and do something special every once in a while, but that's not why I want to be with you. It's all the other stuff--the day to day things, the way we are when we're just studying and working and being Charles and Erik. Okay?"

Erik squeezes his eyes shut and forces himself to breathe. He's feeling...he's feeling too many things. Too many to keep hold of. Too many to understand. Charles squeezes his hand tightly and Erik tries to breathe in time with the pulsing of the lights in front of the bank across the street, flipping back and forth between the time and the temperatures. He almost feels the way he used to feel when he was having a panic attack. The creeping fear and suffocation aren't surrounding him, but his heart is beating just as fast and his mind is racing just as much.

"It's just like...sometimes I'm scared by how much I feel about you," he says, eyes still squeezed closed. "Because I don't know...even when we were best friends, sometimes when I was home without you or when we were at school and I couldn't sleep and I was in my room, I would think about what I would do without you--if you left, I mean, if you stopped being friends with me, and I was like someone was sucking all the air out of the room, just thinking about it. Now it's just...it's so much more. I don't know what I would do if you weren't happy with me, if you left. I don't even know what I would do if you were just like...sad about something and I couldn't fix it. I love you, but sometimes it sucks so much, thinking about how it's like...my heart lives outside of my body now."

Charles doesn't say anything for a long time, but his hand is still gripping Erik's really tightly and Erik can hear his breaths between them in the silent car, steady and even.

"You remember when I told you about how I fell in love with you?" Charles finally says. "How it happened when we first met?"

Erik swallows hard. "I remember. At the party that first weekend, and then you thought I was a jerk in class."

"Yeah, but you were a passionate jerk," Charles says, and Erik can hear the smile in his voice. "And you were…. Even right away, before I knew anything else about you, I knew how brightly your mind burns. It's like--if everyone else is at a ten, you're at a twenty. You feel things _so much_ , Erik, I don't know if you realize that. You care about things and you throw yourself in them wholeheartedly, every part of you, and you don't look back and that's--it's brilliant and lovely and brave and scary." 

Erik makes himself open his eyes, because he thinks he needs to see Charles' face again.

"I don't how you do it," Charles says, "but I'm glad you do, and I--I feel very, very lucky to be one of those things you care about like that."

Charles' eyes are wide and blue and endless and calming. Erik keeps breathing. The tightness in his chest is still there, but it's not as bad as it was a few minutes ago. He doesn't feel like he's going to spin off into nothing if he's not careful. 

He's still kind of mortified, though.

"Fuck," Erik says, feeling resigned. He rests his head forward on the steering wheel and sighs. Charles unlaces their hands so he can stroke Erik's hair and across the back of his neck as he waits for Erik to continue.

"This was supposed to be a nice thing for you, and I just--freaked out on you and dumped all this crap on you."

"Because I _asked_ , you dummy," Charles says. "I love you and I want to know this stuff. I want to know everything, even the crap. I want you to know my crap. We're in this together, right? We have been this whole time, but even more now. All of it, you and me."

"Oh god," Erik warns him, "don't you dare start crying, because if you cry and then _I_ cry, I'm not ever going to forgive you--"

"Shut up, I'm not crying," Charles says. His voice still sounds kind of teary, so Erik's suspicious, but sure enough when he looks up to check, Charles' face is dry and he's even smiling softly.

"Okay," Erik says, rubbing at his eyes with the heels of his hands. "Okay."

He takes another deep breath, trying to clear his head, push everything back where it belongs, somewhere he can try and deal with his feelings without them being so messy and unbridled and confusing and chaotic, everywhere at once, like a hurricane in his head. He's not entirely successful, but he thinks it's good enough for now, enough that he feels okay starting the engine and beginning the drive back home. 

He does hold Charles' hand the whole way there, but sometimes he does that anyway. And if he can feel the ever-so-slight warm and comforting presence of Charles' mind stroking against his own, Charles doesn't say anything about it, so that's okay too.

Making small talk with his parents is definitely beyond his powers tonight, though. It's not that late. Mom and Dad are still up watching TV when they get home.

There's no way to get to Charles' room without passing through the living room, so Erik's parents both look up and smile at them when Erik and Charles come in.

"Hi, boys," Mom says, from the corner of the couch with her head on Dad's shoulder. "How was the date?"

"Fine," Erik says shortly, and he keeps walking so he's out of the room and halfway to Charles' bedroom before she can say anything else. 

Charles stays behind to talk to them. It's a couple minutes before he shows up, and by then Erik is lying on his back on the bed, head turned to the side to breathe in the scent of Charles' pillow.

He feels okay now. He does. He's not freaking out anymore, he's calm, he's even kind of happy. He just feels--displayed again, like an open book anyone can read. He loves his family like crazy, but Charles is the only person he wants to see him like this. 

"They're probably pissed at me," Erik says, shifting his gaze so he can look at Charles without moving. More likely they're concerned, sitting out there fretting about him. He tries not to think about that. He doesn't want to feel guilty, not when he just managed to stop.

"They're not," Charles assures him. "I told them dinner was lovely but we had a pretty heavy talk on the way back and that we were fine but it was a little exhausting. Then your dad wanted to know what we ate and how the service was and all of that." Erik snorts. That sounds like his dad, alright.

Charles joins him on the bed and Erik tucks his head into the space between Charles' head and shoulder, which smells better than the pillow did and has the advantage of being warm and solid and real.

Charles' arms wrap around him and he sighs softly. Charles sighs too, and they stay like that for a long time, so long that they fall asleep, way before Erik can think to set a five-thirty alarm. He wakes up in the morning, still fully clothed with Charles dozing in his arms, long past the time his parents have left for work. If they noticed, they don't say anything, for which Erik is thankful.


	11. Charles

Last summer, Charles couldn't wait for August to finally arrive, even though it meant the hottest, stickiest days of summer. It also meant that summer was nearly over and that soon he'd be back at school with his friends and, yes, mostly Erik.

It's still surreal what a difference a year can make. Or even just four or five months. It was only the end of March that he and Erik got together, even if it feels, somehow, like they've been this way for years. It's another August, and instead of willing the days away, Charles is looking with looming dread at the passage of time on the Lehnsherr family calendar. Someone--Ruth, probably--has written "Charles goes home :(" on the date of his departure, and with each neatly X-ed box, it comes closer and closer.

It's silly, really. He and Erik will only be apart for a week and a half, this time, and then they'll be back at school in their new dorm suite with adjoining singles and hours and hours to spend with each other each day. But it's not just Erik he's leaving behind--this summer at the Lehnsherrs' has been incredible, even if he's definitely resolved to bring his car next year to stave off the suffocating boredom of being in the house while Erik is at work. The enthusiasm with which Erik's parents embraced him is humbling, and Ruth is incredibly fun to be around. He even liked doing silly family things with them, like playing board games or watching movies together, stuff he's sure Erik and Ruth probably only put up with out of familial obligation, but which Charles truly enjoyed.

He knows, realistically, summer can't last forever. Their junior year is starting in the fall, and Charles is going to have to start looking at and thinking about grad school. He'll have to talk to Erik about grad school, about the idea of Oxford, which is a dream that Charles is willing to leave behind if it doesn't match up with Erik's dreams, but which he can't bear to give up before he asks. Next summer will be interspersed with applications and probably campus visits--it's not going to be like this again.

In the meantime, he throws himself into his last weeks with the Lehnsherrs. He spends time with Mr. and Mrs. Lehnsherr, he focuses more directly on his knitting projects, he takes a lot of pictures on his phone, and he and Erik agree to take Ruth on a slew of college preparation shopping trips.

Charles thinks of himself as a fairly organized person, but Ruth literally has a binder full of lists and notes and plans, neatly detailed and cross-referenced, personalized because none of the phone apps she's tried has quite met her needs. There's even a couple pieces of graph paper with careful scale diagrams of her future dorm room.

If she weren't so nice and friendly and bubbly, Ruth could be a deeply scary person.

"I'm pretty sure you could take over the world if you wanted to," Charles says to her, a few days before he's set to go home.

They're at Target, he and Ruth and Erik, in the stationery aisle. Normally Ruth orders her favorite pens online, but they're out of stock at the moment, leading to her here, frowning as she compares packages. Erik has already suggested she just wait and buy them at the university bookstore when she gets to school, but Ruth scoffed at him.

"God, that sounds terrible," Ruth says now. She makes a decision--Charles can feel it when she does, that sudden shift in her mind from consideration to certainty--and tosses the pens into the shopping cart, where they sit between a container of hand lotion and a T-shirt Erik had grabbed somewhere. "What would I want to take over the world for? Definitely not part of my ten year plan."

"I don't know," Erik says. He's in charge of the pushing the cart, and he's hunched over it now, forearms resting on the handles. "I can see you as a benevolent dictator. Or, like. Mostly benevolent."

"Ugh, it would be terrible." Ruth shakes her head. "Like, sure, I bet I could do it, but taking over the world is the easy part, you know? What do you do _next_? No, thank you."

She drifts down the aisle to the notebooks--these require less of a deliberation, as apparently she already knows the exact brand and style she likes, throwing three of them into the cart without a second thought.

"What exactly is your ten year plan?" Charles asks curiously.

"Well, college first, obviously. I want to double major in English and Spanish. Graduate with honors. Probably join a sorority, if I can decide which one is best for me? After that, I'm thinking I'll get my master's in secondary education. I want to concentrate on the high-needs areas for at least the first couple years, which, the Spanish will be a huge help with that. It would be awesome to think about having kids around ten years from now, but obviously that depends on whether I find a guy I want to marry, which you can't exactly plan out, right?"

"Right," Charles says, when it becomes clear Ruth's stopped talking and not just paused for breath after that outpouring of words.

"Wait," Erik says. The tone of his voice makes Charles turn to look at him. Erik's straightened up and he's looking at Ruth with kind of a confused expression on his face. "Is that true? All of that?"

"Uh, yeah," Ruth says. She gives Erik a skeptical look and then turns to grab four one-inch three-ring binders and adds them to the cart. "For years now, since at least the start of high school. That's my plan."

"Oh," Erik says. He lists to the side, resting his hip against Charles' shoulder. He still looks vaguely confused, or maybe lost. "I guess I just...never really thought to ask you about that kind of stuff."

Ruth shrugs and leans on the cart.

"You've had a lot on your mind," she says, perfectly reasonable. 

"Yeah, like, four years ago," Erik says. His frown deepens.

"And then you went off to college and you haven't been home except for holidays," Ruth says. "I mean, I don't really know what you want to do either, except probably yell a lot about mutant rights."

"I mean...I don't even really know what I want to do, honestly," Erik admits. "I'd really like to do something with mutant rights...maybe mutant kids...but those jobs don't exactly pay well and it's really hard to get your foot in the door without doing like, unpaid internships. Which are fucking gross and slave labor and we shouldn't stand for them, but...." He shrugs and leans more of his weight against Charles, then shoves his hands into the pockets of his skinny jeans.

Now is probably not the time to bring up the fact that as long as Erik doesn't break up with Charles, he really...doesn't have to work.

"You have like, a million years to figure it out still," Ruth says. "You still have two whole years of school, and I'm sure Mom and Dad would let you live at home and work for Dr. Friedman until you figure it out."

Erik shudders.

"No thank you," he says. "I want to be _out_ after I graduate. I mean, I love Mom and Dad, but...no." He looks down at Charles. "Plus, Charles is going to get a million more degrees, so I figure I'll probably just have to like...follow him to wherever he goes next and get a job there?"

"You shouldn't feel limited by me," Charles says quietly.

"I'm not limited," Erik insists. "I was just saying I don't know what the fuck I'm going to do, so I might as well figure it out wherever you are, right?"

Charles opens his mouth to reply--this is probably a terrible place to first tell Erik about Oxford, he wants them to be somewhere private, where he can explain the whole thing, explain that it's not even a concrete option yet, that he hasn't even applied, that he might not get in, that he's not going to cross an ocean without Erik, that he'd rather be on the same continent as Erik than follow in his father's footsteps if it comes down to it. 

He hesitates, and then smiles.

"I want you to be happy," is what he says. "And we have a lot of time to figure out whether coming with me to wherever I get into school is going to make you as happy as it would make me."

That answer just seems to confuse Erik further, but Ruth smoothly butts in to change the subject.

"What about you, then, Charles?" she asks. "What's your ten year plan?"

Charles relaxes a little and diverts his attention back to Ruth.

"Well," he says, "I'd like to get my PhD in mutant biology and genetics. That's probably a three to five year program, depending on my research topic and how my lab work goes. Ideally, after that, I'd like to teach, either on the college level or in some sort of program where I get to work with mutant kids, helping them discover and understand their abilities. That's my main focus in my research on the undergrad level and I'd like to make it the focus of my PhD, too." He reaches out and takes Erik's hand. "And mixed into all of that is plenty of wiggle room so I can fit myself into whatever your brother wants to do in the future. I'm not going anywhere without him, at least not long term."

Something about Erik relaxes then, too, and he squeezes Charles' hand.

"Oooh, we'll have a doctor in the family!" Ruth says, grinning. "You really did land a good one, Erik. Like, if he was Jewish, you'd have _all_ the boxes checked."

"Well, I'm willing to compromise," Charles says. "We can raise the kids Jewish."

Erik snatches his hand back as Ruth laughs. "You guys can both fuck off," he says seriously, which makes Charles laugh, too. "Come on, Ruth, are we done with school supplies yet? What else do we need here?"

Ruth fetches a overstuffed planner out of her tote bag, quickly paging through. "Next up is new sheets for the dorm bed!" she announces. "And then a lamp and maybe some pillows and decorations and things. I'm thinking cool colors, and maybe a little paisley? We'll see. I'm flexible."

"Super flexible," Erik says. "That's you."

"Pot, kettle," Charles murmurs, and then immediately tries to look innocent when both Lehnsherr siblings shoot him identical looks. He clears his throat. "On to the home furnishings, then?"

It's another hour before they make it out of the store, loaded up with enough stuff that Ruth barely squeezes in the backseat of the car once it's loaded. Ruth managed to only buy one thing not on her list; of all the things Charles knows about Ruth, that might be the most impressive yet. Erik came out with his t-shirt, some socks, and a jar of Biscoff spread (he's personally offended Charles has never tried it, and determined to fix that as soon as possible). Charles himself picked up a couple TV seasons on DVD and a new pair of headphones.

It's hot and sticky and disgusting out, and despite Erik's best efforts his car's AC is shaky at best, so Charles buys them ice cream on the way home. Back at the house, they all collapse in the living room, Ruth and Charles on the couch and Erik sprawled on the carpet with his eyes closed.

Erik looks long and lean and endless like this, Charles thinks. And his head is back, showing off his throat, and by this far in the summer he's just so tan all over. Charles could look at him for ages.

He doesn't, though. He makes himself pay attention to Ruth instead. "I can't believe everything is coming up so fast already. Are you nervous?"

"I mean, a little," Ruth says. Her hair was piled on top of her head in a messy bun earlier, but she's taking it down now, running her hands through it and smoothing it a little, before she starts to redo it. "I'm mostly excited at this point. All my classes sound really interesting, and I've been emailing back and forth with my roommate, and I think we'll get along fine. And if I get homesick, it's not like Mom and Dad are so far away that I can't come back over a weekend, you know?"

"You won't want to come home for the weekends," Erik says without opening his eyes. "You'll want to hang out with your friends or sleep in or whatever. Fall break and Thanksgiving come soon enough anyway."

Charles keeps quiet--for him, leaving school to go back home has always been a somewhat depressing necessity, but he's well aware that his experiences are very different. Ruth and Erik _like_ it here.

If Claremont was two or three hours away instead of six, he can imagine that coming out in the middle of the semester sometime could actually be kind of fun. 

Charles can't help but wonder if it's ever going to stop feeling--not weird, exactly, because it's oddly natural, too, but...surprising. He's still so surprised that he gets to have this with the Lehnsherrs. Even aside from being in love with Erik, there's this entire other dimension now. A family. He can't really imagine getting so used to it that he takes it for granted.

That's still on his mind, percolating in the back of his brain, the rest of the day.

The weather improves a little over the afternoon and evening, so it's less beastly hot by the time dinner ends. There's some cloud cover and a breeze, which is enough for Charles to be comfortable settling himself outside on the porch with his knitting while Erik heads off on his run. He's just finished up another row when the door opens and Mrs. Lehnsherr joins him on the porch.

"Do you mind if I sit with you, sweetie?" she asks, holding a cup of tea between her hands. Charles shakes his head.

"Of course not," he says. "It's your house, after all."

She settles into the deck chair that's positioned next to his wheelchair and stares out at the twilight. It's already starting to get darker earlier--it's barely seven and the sun is setting. The summer's ending.

"Thank you so much for having me this summer, Mrs. Lehnsherr," he says, resting his knitting on his lap before he starts another row. "It's been...really great. And I know how Erik is--I know he decides things sometimes and no one else gets much input, but I hope that wasn't the case here and I haven't been a burden."

"Oh, sweetheart, of course it wasn't," she says. She reaches over and squeezes his hand. Her fingers are warm where they've been wrapped around the mug, and if Charles had any doubts that she meant it, they vanish when a wave of compassion and affection washes over him. "We love having you here. Even since before you and Erik became a couple, we've thought of you as part of the family, you know."

"Erik's said as much," Charles allows. "I just...." He's not sure how to explain it to her, how to tell her that, outside of his sister, the Lehnsherrs are really the only family Charles has. "Thank you."

"There's absolutely no need to thank us," Mrs. Lehnsherr says firmly. "You're always, always welcome here, with or without Erik. I know he's already invited you for Thanksgiving and winter break and we would love having you here, just as long as--well, I don't want you to have to miss out on any other family obligations." 

Mrs. Lehnsherr is much more subtle than Erik. Charles might not have picked up on the question nestled into her words if he couldn't tell her intent from the surface of her mind.

"No, no," Charles says. "My sister got into Claremont Hills, so I'll feel less guilty on skipping out on family holidays. She's really the only reason I've ever bothered going home." Then, because the Lehnsherrs have been so, so good to him and he just wants them to know, even a little bit.... "Um...I don't know if Erik has told you anything about my family but, my dad died when I was really young. And my mother hasn't ever really...taken an interest in me or my life. She avoids seeing me at all if she can--I think my dad's death was hard on her and it's just...easier that way. I don't know. But Raven's father and brother are...not nice people. They tend to ignore me, too, so it's not that bad but...." He bites his lip. He's not sure if he's saying any of this right. "I really like it here, Mrs. Lehnsherr. You know I--I love Erik. To the ends of the earth, with every part of me. But I like being here with all of you, too."

Mrs. Lehnsherr is looking at him with such a soft, kind expression he almost wants to look away. He still hasn't said it all--how the way the Lehnsherrs are is something that he didn't think really existed, how he always secretly wished he could be part of a family like this, how touched and surprised and pleased he was when they embraced and included him--but the rest of the words won't come. Mrs. Lehnsherr ruffles his hair the way she ruffles Erik's sometimes, then strokes the side of his face.

"I'm so glad you like it here," she says. "Know that you'll always have a place here, sweetheart. Erik aside, we think you're wonderful and we love you, and we always will, no matter what happens with Erik, okay?"

Charles nods haltingly.

"You're so smart and sweet and funny--so, so smart. I couldn't be prouder that Erik would find someone so kind and inquisitive and loving, and I know you'll always take good care of each other, but always know you can lean on us too, okay? If there's ever anything you need, we're only a phone call away. Erik doesn't have to know about it if you don't want him too--we'll always be here for you. You're one of our kids now, same as Erik and Ruthie."

Charles isn't going to cry because that would be _mortifying_ , so he swallows down the lump in his throat and makes himself nod again, blinking rapidly. How many nights did he dream of having parents he could rely on? How many daydreams were about having someone to love him unconditionally like that, to be proud of him? How many times did he let himself think that maybe if his father had lived, things would be different?

Mrs. Lehnsherr strokes his hair again and doesn't say anything about his suspiciously wet eyes.

"I'm just going to ask you one thing in return," she says. "And I'm very serious about it."

"Anything you want," Charles says quietly.

"Start calling us Edie and Jake already," she says, cracking a smile. "If you won't call us Mom and Dad, at least do that."

Whatever he was expecting her to say, it wasn't that. A laugh escapes him, surprised and happy. "Okay, okay. I'll try. I might still make some mistakes while I get used to it, though, I should warn you."

"Trying your best is all Jake and I ever ask of any of you," Edie says, patting his hair one last time before wrapping both hands back around her mug and leaning back in her chair. She takes a careful sip of her tea. "How is the knitting coming along?"

Charles doesn't mind the change of subject--it's a relief, even, a chance to recover from the wonderful but overwhelming discussion. He looks down at the project in his lap and tries to look at it objectively. 

"I don't think I can in good conscience saying it's going _well_ , exactly," Charles says thoughtfully. 

"Let me see?" Edie asks, and Charles lifts it up so she can look it over. He's very aware of how uneven it looks, the scraggly edges, a dropped stitch he hadn't noticed a half dozen rows back.

"I'd say you're doing very well, actually," Edie says. "Think about what it would have looked like a month ago. You've improved a lot this summer."

"Hmm." Charles eyes it again. It's hard for him to see anything but the flaws--especially when he thinks about the things Ruth's made for him or Erik. Ruth's been doing this since she was eleven or twelve, and it shows. Charles has been doing this for a matter of weeks, and that _also_ shows.

"It takes time to learn a new skill," Edie says. 

Charles can't help but snort a little. "I guess...I'm not used to not being good at things right away," he admits. He feels sheepish enough about it that he can't quite look her in the eye, instead aiming his gaze over the porch railing, down the street to where Erik disappeared around the corner earlier. 

Edie makes a soft noise. "Well, then this was probably an even better idea than we thought. As far as valuable life skills go, I'd say dealing with that is right there at the top."

There's a lot of stuff Charles never learned how to do. He knows exactly how smart he is, and he picks up and understands things pretty much instantaneously, the majority of the time, but when it comes to practical skills, he's never had to learn a lot of them. Erik and Ruth are both decent cooks, even if Erik mostly defaults to junk food on his own. They know how to sew and how to balance a checkbook and change a fuse and change a tire and change the oil in their cars. Before Charles left for college, he had never even done his own laundry.

All of that was in the back of his mind to some degree when he was deciding what to concentrate on for this self-directed project. And he does like the feeling of having something physical, something tangible to show for his efforts. And there's a weird pride, too, knowing that this is somewhere where his powers don't particularly give him an advantage or a leg up.

It's also kind of frustrating, though.

"It's something I've always had trouble with, too," Edie says. "Looking back at how far you've come, not just how much farther there is to go." She sighs softly. "I'm afraid that's one of those unfortunate qualities I've passed on to Erik, as well."

Charles picks up his knitting again and makes himself begin. One stitch after another; that's all it is. Patience and watching it grow. It _is_ better than his crappy first attempts. A lot better.

"Erik just wants things to be right," Charles says. "I think...he takes it pretty hard when they aren't. Whether it's big things, like politics or discrimination, or small things, like...I don't know, someone being rude to me at a party or something. He's just as hard on himself as anybody else about it. Worse, maybe."

He thinks that's something a lot of people miss about Erik. If you don't know him well enough, all you can see all the loudest parts, the ego and the drama, and he can just seem...well, full of himself. People don't see that inner core that drives him.

Charles thinks of Erik in the car after their date, the way he freaked out, and he bites his lip.

"They're both like that," Edie agrees, "but Erik especially. I've tried to teach them that they don't have to be perfect, that they should relish making mistakes so they can learn from them, but I was the same way, so I understand. I just do my best to be there for them when they do fall down."

"You do a really great job of it," Charles says. "I'm not saying that just to suck up, but...the way Erik talks about you--both of you--I know he really appreciates having you for the stupid little things and the, um, big things, too."

Edie sighs and leans back in her chair, looking off into the distance. Charles immediately regrets bringing Shaw into the conversation.

"Erik's always been like that to some extent," she finally says. "He's always had a very clear picture of what he was and what he wanted and how he thought the world should work. But I can't pretend Sebastian Shaw didn't compound many of those feelings to an unhealthy degree. He knew exactly how to use those things to manipulate Erik. To manipulate all of us, really. We all were affected by Shaw, in the end. He left a mark on this whole family." She's quiet for a moment, then looks back at Charles, smiling again. "But we survived. Eisenhardts and Lehnsherrs--surviving is what we do. I don't know how much Erik has told you about how my family and my husband's family came to America."

"Enough," Charles says. He knows, for instance, that Ruth is named for her great aunt, who didn't survive Auschwitz, and that growing up seeing the tattoos on his grandparents' forearms is what put Erik off getting tattoos of his own, despite his hipster tendencies.

"I've always wondered if that's not where his sense of injustice grew from," she says. "Either way, it all makes Erik and Ruth as strong as they are and as driven as they are and, unfortunately, as stubborn and perfectionist. There are times I wish they'd taken more after their father."

Charles thinks back to the wedding picture on the mantle inside.

"Well," he says, "Erik definitely get some things from his dad."

Edie laughs and then shoots Charles a look so knowing that he has to blush.

"He's very handsome, yes," she says, and Charles blushes even more. "It was much more apparent before Jake grew his mustache when the kids were small."

"Although that's tragically another trait that he didn't pass on," Charles says. He can't help the grin that's sneaking onto his face. "Erik tried to grow facial hair last year. 'Tried' being the key word there."

"It didn't go well, then?"

"Well, I've spent the past two years rating every person I've met on a scale from 'mildly attractive' to 'Erik' and even I could barely look at him for those two weeks," Charles says. Edie laughs, delighted at the very thought of it and Charles can't help but laugh at the memory as well.

Charles can sense Erik crossing back over the boundaries of his mental radar, as if somehow summoned by the knowledge that someone, somewhere, is laughing at him. Charles has kept his awareness fairly gentle and relaxed at the moment, only a few blocks' radius around himself. His possible range goes much further than that, when he concentrates, though he hasn't figured out exactly what the outer limit is yet. The last time he really tested it was in high school, and he thinks he's probably had another power growth spurt since then. 

Charles could probably reach Erik at his job, if he tried. He hasn't mentioned that to Erik, mostly because Erik would insist he _did_ try, and if he succeeded--well, that would be the end of Erik getting anything done at work. 

Once in a while he follows Erik on his runs. Unobtrusively. Just letting the sense of Erik's concentration and exertion sit in the back of his mind, familiar and constant and comforting. But mostly he thinks Erik needs that time to himself, even if he doesn't ask for it. Time to sort out things on his own and be alone and quiet in his own head, without even Charles there to interrupt, channeling his mental noise into physical activity. 

Charles doesn't begrudge him that at all. But the sense of Erik's mind returning and brushing up against his again--it's one of the best feelings Charles knows. 

"Erik's almost back," Charles says to Edie, who looks surprised for a second before she laughs.

"That explains that smile, then. Are you talking with him?"

That's another thing to like about the Lehnsherrs, their ease about his mutation. They think it's interesting, and they're not afraid to ask questions about it, but they also don't seem to act like it's something really strange or bizarre. It's new to them in some ways, but it's just another part of him.

"Not exactly," he says. "It's more...he passed back into my awareness. Kind of like...well, I guess it's comparable to seeing a person you care about across a crowded street when they haven't seen you yet. That little burst of excitement at seeing them and that moment of taking them in that they're totally unaware of. I can feel him again, but I haven't said anything."

Edie nods, still smiling at him slyly, and it's only the space of another moment before Erik comes into view, slowing down to a jog as he rounds the corner, his attention still on the road in front of him and the music blasting from his iPod. His jog slows into a trot and he finally looks over at the house, waving at Charles and Edie when he spots them. He pulls his earbuds out and takes the last length of the sidewalk at a brisk walk, panting as he climbs the porch stairs and leans on the railing in front of them.

"Hey," he says between breaths. He's drenched in sweat and his shirt and shorts are both sticking to his skin. Charles is trying very hard to remember that Edie is sitting right next to him and will definitely be able to tell he's ogling her son if he gets away from himself.

"Hey," Charles says. "Good run?"

"I got in the zone," Erik says, nodding. "I have some ideas for my senior project, actually--I know it's still a year away, but it's good to start planning now, right?"

"It's never too early," Charles agrees, even though he has no idea what the liberal arts senior projects entail.

"I'm gonna take a shower, I'll be down in a few," Erik says, but before he can go, Charles crooks a finger, beckoning him closer. Erik glances at Edie and then back to Charles, raising his eyebrows.

"I'll look the other way if you'd like," Edie says with the same sly smile from earlier.

"You're all the worst," Erik groans, but he does lean over and kiss Charles before he goes inside. 

Charles watches him go, but stays right where he is, quietly watching the sunset with Edie, until Erik comes back down.


	12. Erik

The night before they go back to Charles' house, Charles is restless.

No, restless isn't the right word. He's...distracted.

He's sad. He's really sad, is what he is. He's trying to hide it, but Erik knows him well enough by now to see through his fake smiles and methods of distraction. Erik calls him out right before dinner, when they're lying on the couch together while Ruth sets the table.

"You're moping," Erik says. "Why are you moping?"

"I'm not," Charles says. Which is clearly a blatant lie. 

Erik knows Charles can sense exactly how unbelievable Erik finds that answer, but he sits up enough that he can look at Charles straight on, just to make sure Charles gets the brunt of the skeptical expression on his face as well.

"I'm not moping," Charles says again, but a little less certain this time. "I'm not, I'm just--" He rolls his eyes--at himself, Erik thinks. 

_I'm just being dumb_ , he continues silently, shooting Erik another unconvincing smile. _I didn't think leaving was going to be this hard._

Erik follows his lead, thinking his responses instead of saying them out loud. 

_You could always stay longer, you know. We could just drive down the day before and pack your stuff really quick and go straight to school from your house._

Charles shakes his head. His smile is smaller now, but it looks a little more real.

Erik was pretty sure that wasn't going to work, but he had to give it a try.

 _The next week and a half is going to totally suck, don't get me wrong_ , Erik says, _but at least it's not going to be as long as before. And then we'll be back at school and this next semester is going to be totally awesome, with us living together and finally being upperclassmen. I know you've been getting antsy to geek out properly again, don't lie._

"I have," Charles admits. "I'm looking forward to our suite, and to my classes, and seeing all our friends again, and even the Sunday waffle bar at the cafeteria. And we're not going to be apart even two weeks. There's no reason for me to be sad at all."

Erik eyes him. 

Charles sighs and runs his hand idly through his hair. "I told you I was being dumb. I don't know. This summer was just so great and...it feels like something ending. Even though I know what comes next is going to be great too."

"It is going to be great," Erik says. "It's going to be even better. And like, you're going to be with Raven, and then you get to have me again, and my mom's already starting planning Thanksgiving so you can't back out of that now, either. And--" He glances around. Everybody else is the kitchen or outside, but he switches back to thoughts anyway. _And besides, it's not over yet. We have tonight and a six hour drive tomorrow. Plus, we'll have one last night in your big empty house._ He raises his eyebrows lasciviously. _I bet we can manage to make that memorable enough to last until school, right?_

A familiar sparkle comes into Charles' eyes, one that, in Erik's experience, always leads to good things. _I had an idea about that, actually_ , Charles begins, which of course is exactly when Ruthie sticks her head through the door to call them in for supper.

After dinner, they spend the evening playing Scrabble with his parents and then watching a movie with Ruth. Charles still looks sad, sometimes, out of the corner of Erik's eye, but he's not outwardly moping anymore, so Erik figures his words made some progress on that front. Once Ruth goes to bed, he and Charles curl up in Charles' room. They don't say much, but they do an awful lot of kissing that transitions into an awful lot of touching and eventually becomes very quiet, mutually enjoyable orgasms. 

Charles is smiling, at least, when he finally falls asleep.

In the morning, Erik is very glad that they took the time to clean up and redress the night before--he wakes up to his mother shaking his shoulder, standing over the bed looking fond and tired.

"Do you boys want eggs or pancakes before you hit the road?" she asks. She doesn't comment on the fact that Erik is sleeping in his boyfriend's bed, which is staunchly against house rules. Maybe she noticed how sad Charles looked last night, too.

Erik nudges Charles awake.

"Eggs or pancakes?" he asks.

"Oh god, is it really morning?" Charles asks, pulling the blankets over his head. Then, "Eggs, thank you." Mom just laughs and tells them breakfast is in ten minutes.

His whole family gets up to say goodbye, even though it's stupid early on a Saturday. Charles definitely gets teary when he hugs Ruth and Erik's parents while Erik packs his things into the car, and he promises them a million times that he'll come home with Erik for Thanksgiving. He waves at them through the window once Erik is finally able to corral him into the car (with another twenty bucks for coffee slipped into his hand by Erik's dad), and stares quietly out the window until the house is far, far behind them.

Having Charles with him makes the drive fly by. Instead of a six hour slog, it's actually a lot of fun. They sing along with Erik's iPod and play dumb car games and talk about family vacations past. Well, Erik talks about family vacations past. When it's Charles' turn, it's more about tedious trips taken with his family, where he, Raven, and Cain were abandoned with a nanny. 

"Speaking of," Charles says when they're maybe an hour or so from his house, "just as a warning, Mother and Kurt will be back from Europe by now. I doubt you'll see them--I doubt I'll even see them before I leave for school--but just...be warned."

Erik doesn't even know what to do with that information, so he decides to just...not think about it unless directly confronted with Charles' parents.

The end of the drive is just as creepy and weird as it was the first time around. Erik's expecting it this time, the endless slip into rich and richer and richest and the never ending driveway and gates and the fucking _castle_ at the end of the road.

Erik parks in the garage that Charles points him to. There are a half-dozen really nice cars that each cost more than Erik's parents make in a year (including the one that Erik's seen come pick Charles up at school) but then there's also a section with a handful of cars that look like normal people drive them, which is where Erik sets his own car.

Erik doesn't say anything, but Charles must be able to tell he's surprised, because he says, "Most of these belong to the people who work here."

Charles' family has enough employees for their own sort of parking lot. Not for like a business, even, just...there. Erik doesn't know how to feel, so he decides to ignore that, too.

He grabs Charles' bag and follows Charles into the house, through the same side entrance they used all the time the week Erik was here earlier. They don't pass anybody else on the way to Charles' room, or hear anybody. The one hint that it's not as empty as before are the random fresh flowers set regularly through the halls.

"Raven's in the den already," Charles says as Erik dumps his stuff on the bed. "Do you want to go say hi to her?"

"Yeah, of course!" Erik says.

Raven is sitting in the big armchair in a halter and cut offs, painting her toenails. Erik expects her to jump up and hug them as soon as they enter the room, but she just looks up and smiles. "Hey!"

"Hey," Erik says. Well, if she's not going to do it, Erik can make the effort. He comes over to sit on the arm of the chair, leaning over to squeeze one arm around her in a quick half-hug.

"I'm not going to ask how the drive was," Raven says, "because I'm sure it was long and gross and the traffic was terrible, but you don't get to whine about it because I totally offered to meet you midway so you didn't have to go through it."

"But then I wouldn't get as much time with Charles," Erik says, which makes Raven make a face.

"It wasn't that bad, truly," Charles volunteers. He's hanging back a little. Erik's not sure why. He suspects Charles and Raven have had some sort of telepathic talk he hasn't heard, but he doesn't know for sure. 

"You're staying here tonight, right? You're not going to try and do the whole trip in one day?"

"My mom would kill me if I did," Erik says. He doesn't add the other obvious consideration, which is that he's not going to give up on an extra night in Charles' bed.

"Sharon's sleeping off a hangover and Dad went into the city to deal with some mess Cain's made, so you probably won't see either of them," Raven tells them. "Mrs. Lewis said to just call down by four if we want dinner. I told her probably pizza but I'd check with you guys."

"Oh, pizza would be great," Charles says. He inches close enough to tangle his fingers with Erik's. "Mrs. Lewis makes _amazing_ pizza."

"Mrs. Lewis?" Erik asks.

"The cook," Raven says. "The staff went with Dad and Sharon to the London house for the summer, but they're back now."

Staff. Of course Charles' parents have staff. He said that in the garage and even before that, when Erik was visiting at the start of the summer. Erik knows that, but it's still weird to hear Raven just talking about it so casually. Charles too. 

"Well, tell Mrs. Lewis that yes, we'll be in for dinner and we'd love some pizza," Charles says. "In the meantime, Erik and I are going to go relax by the pool for a little bit?" He looks up at Erik questioningly and Erik bites his lip for a moment. That had been the plan--hanging out by the pool for a little bit and then escaping to Charles' room to make the most out of their last day together with the giant bed there. Now he can't help but think that there are probably all sorts of people just...milling around. People will see them out there.

He doesn't know why it's weird that people will see him and Charles together on the pool deck, but not weird that hundreds of thousands of people saw them together all summer, shopping and eating out and even kissing at the park.

He weighs that weird embarrassment with the memory of Charles in swim trunks, doing laps back and forth, all freckly and wet and strong.

"Yeah," Erik says. "What time is dinner, so, uh...we can be...done with things?"

"Ew," Raven says, rolling her eyes. "Dinner's at six. I'll avoid the pool until then."

Erik wants to protest, but Charles is already pivoting to roll out of the room, pulling Erik along with him. They end up back in Charles' room, which is at least the same cluttered, familiar haven he remembers from the start of the summer. It relaxes him a little, enough to ease the tension in his shoulders as he changes into his swim trunks and slathers Charles with sunscreen.

He slips back into it out at the pool, though. Even as he watches Charles swim laps, not doing much out of the ordinary himself, he can't help but wonder if there's someone in the house who can see them, who's watching them. With the size of the house and the empty quiet of the corridors, it just feels...spooky and uncomfortable.

He joins Charles in the water eventually, and that distracts him at least a little. Or, okay, kind of a lot. In the water, he and Charles can be upright and face to face when they kiss and it's kind of cool--something that doesn't happen when they're on solid ground. Something that probably wouldn't have happened on solid ground even if Charles didn't use a wheelchair, given that Charles is like, really short, but still. Floating in the water, making out with Charles--or being pinned to the wall by Charles and kissed within an in of his life--is a pretty relaxing way to spend a few hours, especially after such a long drive.

Every once in awhile, though, the thought of the house, the staff, the enormity of it, breaks through his calm. There's something else there, underneath it all, behind it, that's niggling him. There's something at the core of it all that has him feeling uncomfortable in his own skin. He's not sure if he wants to waste energy trying to figure out what it is, not when his time with Charles is limited and he wants to get as much kissing in as possible before he leaves tomorrow morning.

He has a week's worth of kisses to get through, and that's nothing to scoff at. Erik applies himself to the task with all the diligence and focus he can muster.

Charles' hands start to wander pretty quickly-- _he_ clearly has no problem forgetting or ignoring all the invisible people who must be around--and by the time he's worked his hands all the way down and under the waistband of Erik's trunks, Erik decides it's time for a tactical retreat to Charles' bedroom. 

They stop kissing as little as possible, really only long enough to get their clothes off and move to the bed. 

They drag it out a long time, longer than they usually do, just kissing and rubbing against each other. The air around them feels slow and thick and heavy and everything smells like chlorine and Charles' coconut sunscreen and when Charles finally comes his nails dig in so hard into Erik's shoulders that for a dizzy second Erik thinks he's drawn blood.

"I love your bed," Erik says afterwards, yawning and curling up sleepily between Charles and one of the pillows. Charles has a million pillows, and they're all soft and comfortable and perfect. Charles even has a pillow that's designed just to have sex on, which blew Erik's mind when Charles first explained it.

He yawns again as Charles strokes his hand up and down Erik's side, a little ticklish against Erik's ribs.

"You can take a nap, if you want," Charles says. "We still have over an hour before the food should be ready."

Erik fully intends on refusing that offer, but annoyingly, his body seems to have other plans. The next thing he knows, he's blinking his eyes open to the sight of Charles getting dressed to head back down.

"You shouldn't have let me sleep," Erik says, sitting up quickly and shooting Charles a scowl. "I didn't want to waste time while I'm here."

Charles mostly just looks amused by his reaction, which Erik probably should have expected.

"It was fine," Charles says. "I napped too, and I watched you sleep and cuddled with you. It was nice. I'm going to miss that too, you know."

Erik sighs and pulls on his clothes. At least it was only an hour. At least they'll be together again in less than two weeks. 

Charles leads them not to the kitchen, but back to the den. The coffee table has been cleared off and a middle-aged woman and a guy only a few years older than them are carrying a huge pizza and a stack of three plain blue plates.

"Oh, Mrs. Lewis, we would have fetched it," Charles insists.

"Well, I called up to see if your sister wanted us to bring it up and she didn't answer, so I thought I might as well," the woman insists. "I'd hate to make you take an extra trip."

"Thank you, we appreciate it," Charles says.

The woman and the guy leave the room once they put the pizza and the plates down, and Charles transfers over to the couch like it's totally normal to have, like, table service in your house.

It was so easy to ignore all these weird things when it was just Erik and Charles and Raven in the house. Now he feels like it's jumping out at him every time he turns around.

Something of it must show on his face, because Charles puts down his pizza and frowns at Erik.

"Something's clearly been bothering you all day," Charles says. "Do you want to talk about it, or do you want to think about it some more?"

"I don't know," Erik admits. "I don't know...how to talk about it. Or what it really is or...I don't know." He sighs and takes another bite of pizza. Charles was right--it's really good. "This all just seems...I don't know. It's so much. It's like...cartoon rich. I just..." He shrugs.

If anything, Charles' frown seems to intensify. "Does it really bother you that much? I mean…you always knew I had money. It's not like I ever tried to pretend otherwise."

"Yeah, but--there's a difference between knowing and really seeing it, I guess?" Erik nibbles his pizza. "When we were at school, I knew you had a lot of money, but I didn't imagine that you were, like, a bazillionaire. It's just weird."

Charles picks up his own pizza again. "It's not like it's something I can do anything about," Charles says.

"No, I know, I just…" Erik kind of wishes Charles hadn't asked, because he's not saying this right. He doesn't know how to keep Charles, his boyfriend and his best friend and the person he's closest to in the whole world, in the same mental space as this whole place, which seems utterly unreal. Real people don't live like this. People on TV shows live like this, or celebrities, not actual people with actual lives and thoughts and feelings. 

"I feel like I don't belong here," Erik says finally. "Like I'm doing something wrong just being here. And that's bad enough, but like...you do belong here."

Charles isn't really eating his pizza properly, just picking toppings off and placing them on the side of his plate, even though he totally loves mushrooms and pepperoni on his pizza normally. "I hate it here," Charles says. "You know that."

"Yeah, but--" This is natural to Charles, all of it. It's not like Erik thinks Charles is slumming it the rest of the time, but it's hard to see how Charles manages not to feel that way. If Erik grew up taking things like this for granted, wouldn't stuff like his car or his parents' house or whatever look like garbage in comparison? Charles likes going to Target and will drink the vodka that smells a little like Ruthie's nail polish remover if it's all they have left. He's not like, chandeliers and caviar or whatever. But this house kind of is.

Erik shakes his head. "It just gives me the heebie jeebies, okay? I just need, like, time to get used to it, probably."

Charles starts to say something, but he seems to change his mind at the last moment and takes another bite of pizza instead. After he swallows, he says, "Well, it's not like we're going to be spending much more time around here. You're only here until tomorrow, and after this week I don't plan on coming back more than the bare minimum."

Erik returns Charles' smile, even though it's a little weak. If Charles is willing to put the conversation to rest for now, Erik is relieved. It's his own problem, and he just needs to get over it. And he will, eventually, he's sure, just like he told Charles. It's not like Charles is going to suddenly become not crazy fancy rich anymore, so Erik is going to have to figure out how to stop feeling weird when it's in his face like this.

"The pizza is awesome," Erik volunteers, and yeah, Charles' smile looks a little more sincere now.

"Right? I mean, she's not as good a cook as your mom, but pretty close. Just don't tell her I ever said that. Although..." Charles looks back towards the door, biting his lip. "I'm surprised Raven is missing it."

"Can't you reach out and see where she is?" Erik asks.

"Oh, well...I don't want to bother her," Charles says, which strikes Erik as kind of an un-Charles-like thing to say.

Erik's second huge piece of pizza is gone, so he sets his empty plate back on the table and then leans back on the couch, folding his legs underneath him. "You know, if you're going to make me talk about stuff, it doesn't seem fair that you get to get out of sharing why _you're_ being weird."

Charles is back to picking at his pizza.

"It's stupid," he says. "It's really just...something in my head I need to deal with."

"Well, all of that stuff was just something in my head I need to deal with, so...fair's fair," Erik points out and Charles smiles again, just a little. He takes another bite of pizza and once he's swallowed, he puts his plate back on the table and tips his head back to stare at the ceiling. 

"It's...kind of related, in a weird way, I guess," Charles finally says. "I spent all summer with your family and I loved it--I love them. It was like having a real family, like families in books. It's like how you said you thought real people didn't live like this, that it was only on television. Well, that's kind of how I felt about your family. I've never had that, I didn't think it really happened that way, with family meals and chores and playing board games together and all of that." He shifts slightly, so he's turned on his side and looking at Erik. Erik reaches out and takes one of his hands, just holding it, a point of connection between them. There are already a million things he wants to say, but he keeps quiet until Charles is finished.

"Your mom made it so clear that I'm part of the family now," Charles continues. "That even if something happens with us, I'll still be important to her. And I'm going back for Thanksgiving and probably most of winter break and next summer, too, and I'm so happy and so excited, but...ever since we left, I can't help but feel so guilty. Because I have a family, I have a sister, and I feel like I'm leaving her behind."

He tries to pull his hand away, but Erik squeezes his fingers tight and doesn't let him.

"That's stupid," Erik says flatly.

"Erik--"

"No!" Erik insists. "It really is. You still love Raven, obviously, and you're gonna see her _all year_ at school and do all your stupid traditions with her and all of that. She knows that. She's not stupid."

"She wasn't...thrilled to see me," Charles says.

"Well, she'll get over it," Erik says. "She was off having fun with her friends too, right? It wasn't like she was sitting here by herself. Even if you hadn't stayed with me, she wouldn't have seen you, so if she's pissy about that then...whatever, that's her shit to deal with, you know?"

"That's...not entirely accurate," Charles insists, but Erik shakes his head.

"This is a dumb thing for you to feel guilty about," Erik says. "It's just...stupid. It's like...it's like..." He's hit, all of a sudden, with a memory from last winter, one of his long talks with Charles. With nothing to do and not many work shifts, he spent a lot of time wandering around the house or driving around town, talking to Charles on the phone for hours. "It's like we talked about before, over winter break. You're getting bigger, your world is getting bigger, so there's more room for other people. You're not kicking her out of your family, you're just making it bigger."

"I know that logically," Charles says slowly, "but I guess...it was just always me and her, you know? We _were_ each other's family, because Mother and Kurt and Cain didn't deserve the name. And now it's like I'm saying she's not enough."

Erik is shaking his head even before Charles finishes. "It's not rejecting her to love somebody else, too. It's not like you're replacing her."

"I know," Charles says. He squeezes Erik's hand back. "I do know that. It's just hard."

Erik doesn't know what else to say, so what he does instead is scoot a little closer on the couch and rest his head on Charles' shoulder. If he can't say the right thing, if he can't fix things for Charles like he wants to, the one thing he can always do is this, reassure Charles that he's got Erik here beside him to listen and support him and shit.

They're both quiet for a minute or two, and Erik's listening to the sound of their breathing. He can feel Charles' mind against his, just a small whisper of sensation, fondness and growing calm.

Erik's starting to get a little sleepy again, honestly, but that problem's solved when Raven finally enters the room, dropping dramatically into the chair opposite the two of them.

"Oh, good," she says. "I was afraid you guys wouldn't save me any pizza."

Her face is at odds with her words. She looks...kind of miserable, honestly. And when she grabs her slice of pizza, she immediately starts picking at it exactly like Charles just was.

"Jeez," Erik says, barely refraining from rolling his eyes, "don't tell me you're freaking out about dumb shit, too?"

Raven stiffens. "Excuse me?"

"You might as well talk it out, it's like one big therapy session in here tonight," Erik tells her. He can feel Charles slightly shaking beside him, repressing the desire to laugh.

"I think what Erik means to say is you look a little upset," Charles says tactfully, but Raven glares at him anyway.

"Whatever. You guys have fun messing around and living it up all night, I'll be in my room."

She adds another piece of pizza to the one already covering her plate and storms out. Erik watches her go.

"What was that about?"

Charles sighs. "I think...I think she's rather upset about Angel still. She sounded like she was having so much fun every time I checked in with her, I hoped she'd have moved on by now."

"That's so dumb," Erik says. "I mean, I haven't met Angel, but she can't be that great. And she's about to meet a million new people, so...whatever. I bet those people will be way cooler and hotter than Angel anyway. I mean, just look at our friends group. We're pretty great."

"We are," Charles says, smiling a little. "I don't know. I mean, it was clear to me from the start that the whole Angel thing wasn't going to be long term but...I guess she thought otherwise. I don't really have any experience with any of this; every time I've broken up with someone, we've all been pretty rational about it."

"Yeah," Erik says. "I was only dumped the one time and it worked out pretty well for me." He elbows Charles a little and Charles' smile widens. He wraps his arms around Erik and nuzzles closer, and Erik figures Raven will either sort her own shit out or talk it out with Charles after he's gone. And if neither of those things happen? Well, she'll be with them at Claremont in less than two weeks and she'll probably get over Angel in like, a day once she sees all the new possibilities.

The main takeaway of this being, of course, that they should put Raven out of their minds and maybe focus on other, more pressing matters. Like the fact that they still have a lot of making out to do if they're going to make up for a whole week spent on their own.

"Hey," Erik says, pressing his nose to Charles' hair. Charles raises his head and Erik kisses him immediately, even as Charles laughs against his mouth. He doesn't laugh for long, though--it's only a beat or two before he kisses Erik back, clearly agreeing that they've done enough worrying about Raven for the night.

They shift around until Erik is holding Charles on his lap, which is always novel, given how often it's the other way around. For a long time, it's just kissing for kissing's sake--kissing Charles is always its own destination, exciting in a different way than foreplay, warm and heady and sweet. Erik could probably kiss Charles all day--for hours and hours, just the two of them locked together like this, bodies and minds overlapping and twisted together and content.

Except this is also their last night together before they get back to school, and while the kissing is nice, he wants to take advantage of Charles' bed while he still can.

He moves his mouth to Charles' throat, which is always like flipping a switch. Charles' neck and throat are so sensitive that all it takes for him to slip into aimless kissing into arousal is Erik dragging his teeth against the skin there. He can feel Charles' pulse increase and hear him suck in a sharp breath. It always leaves Erik feeling a little awed and a little proud. He still can't quite believe that he can be the one who makes Charles look and feel and act like this.

"I'm getting the impression you want to go back to my room," Charles laughs, breathless.

"See," Erik says, nuzzling against his throat, "there's a reason people call you a genius."

Charles laughs again. Erik helps him off his lap and back into his chair--not that Charles needs the help, but it's an excuse to touch and grope him a little more.

Erik's gaze falls on the coffee table again, and he hesitates. "Should we put the food away?"

"Mm, you can leave it," Charles says, halfway to the hall already. "Matthew will come pick it up in a bit."

It's possible that Erik might normally protest that more, in a situation where the state of his pants wasn't already too obscene to risk meeting other people. As it is, he lets it go and follows Charles down the hallway and back to his room.

Erik has his shirt over his head as soon as the doors shut behind them, and he's pulling his jeans off immediately after. So he's already down to just his underwear when he looks back up and notices Charles is still in his chair, fully dressed.

"What?" Erik says. "Are you just going to watch?"

It's never failed to turn him on even more, that expression Charles gets when he's looking at Erik's body--appreciative and, like, almost dazed, his bright eyes darker with arousal. Erik's skin prickles as the heat rushes through him. When he shifts his weight from one foot to the other, he can see Charles following the movement of the bulge of his dick.

"I didn't get a chance to tell you about my idea yesterday," Charles says. His gaze travels slowly up the length of Erik's body until he meets his eyes. 

"Yeah," Erik says. "I almost forgot about that. What exactly did you have in mind?"

He moves closer, until he's within arm's range and Charles grabs his hand to tug him in the rest of the way to stand right in front of the chair. Charles sets his hands on Erik's hips and tilts his head up. His mouth's quirked up at the corner in a half smile.

"I was thinking about when we were apart at the beginning of the summer," Charles says. His thumb is stroking a circle on Erik's skin, dipping just under the elastic at the bottom, because Charles is a fucking tease. "When we tried, um, the pictures and texts and things. That went pretty well, I thought?"

"Fuck yes," Erik agrees. He'd been surprised when Charles had suggested it, but the really awesome sort of surprised.

"If I couldn't have you, I liked...having that," Charles says. "It made it easier. It made it better than just my imagination."

"Same here," Erik says. He can feel his pulse racing in his ears, being so close to Charles, having Charles' hands so close to his ass and dick and just...sitting there. "It was so hot, knowing--you know. That you were touching yourself while we were talking." He feels himself blush as he says it. He doesn't know why he's so embarrassed, it's not like there's anyone here but the two of them.

"Well," Charles continues, tugging lightly on Erik's underwear, but nowhere near hard enough to pull it down, "I thought maybe, before you go, we could...take some more pictures. So I'd have them for the next week and a half."

Erik blinks down at Charles. That thought has...kind of derailed him.

"Like...right now?" Erik says. "You want me to take pictures right now, while we're together?"

"Well," Charles says, "I thought more that I could take some pictures of you and vice versa."

"Oh," Erik says slowly. "Uh...okay? Um." 

"If you don't want to," Charles says quickly, but Erik shakes his head.

"No, no, that's...cool," he says, and almost believes it. There's just something...weird about it. Something that makes it not sit right. Something...almost embarrassing.

But that's silly. It's just the two of them. It's no different from him taking pictures of his dick or his chest or him jerking off and sending them to Charles. It cuts out the middle man--Charles is right here. That should make it even better.

Like, in theory.

"Um, do you want me to like...?" he gestures towards the bed and Charles nods. Erik sits awkwardly on the edge and pulls off his underwear while Charles pulls out his phone. He can feel himself blushing. Weirdly, he suddenly wants to cover his junk, which is _so_ stupid. Charles is his boyfriend. He's seen it a million times, by this point.

He scoots back on the bed until his back is up against the headboard. "Do you want me like this, or...I could lie down?"

"However you're most comfortable," Charles says, his eyes fixed on his phone screen.

Erik takes a deep breath and wraps his palm around his dick. He strokes himself once, twice, and then pauses to reach over to Charles' nightstand to squeeze a little lube on his hands before he starts again.

He loves it when Charles looks at him, usually. He loved taking those pictures for Charles earlier in the summer, knowing that Charles was going to look at them and get off on them. He wants to give Charles something to have when Erik can't be here to touch him and kiss him and do all that stuff--something that will make it feel like they're not so far away from each other.

So why is his body being so...awkward about it? It's like his mind is too busy being weird to let the good feelings that he should be having sink in. 

"You're so hot," Charles murmurs, and--that makes it a little better, hearing Charles' voice. Especially when Erik closes his eyes. He tries to concentrate on the familiar feeling of his hand on his dick, which is always nice. He thinks about being in Charles' dorm room, exploring Charles' body and every place that makes him whimper. He thinks about jerking off at home while they texted, knowing Charles was doing the same thing right here.

It works. It feels good. It feels fine, but it's not--it's not nearly as good as kissing Charles on the couch was, not as good as anything they've done together. He doesn't have the humiliation of losing his erection, at least, but he's still just...he's too embarrassed. He doesn't know how he's going to manage to keep this up.

"Erik, stop," Charles says, and his voice is a lot closer this time. Erik opens his eyes to see him right beside the bed. Apparently Erik was too busy focusing on his cock to even notice the metal of the chair moving closer. 

"I'm sorry," Charles says. "I didn't think...We don't have to do this. I thought it would be fun, but I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable or anything. It was a dumb idea."

"No, _I'm_ sorry," Erik says, as Charles starts to transfer to the bed. His face feels like it's on fire. "It wasn't a dumb idea, I just. I don't know what's wrong with me. "

Charles finishes arranging himself on the bed, next to Erik, their bodies side by side all the way up, thighs and sides and shoulders.

"You're fine," Charles says softly. "Look at you, you're perfect."

He gently pushes Erik's hand away, replacing it with his own. All that arousal that had started to flicker in Erik with his uncertainty and dumb shyness seems to light back up, all at once, at the touch.

Erik stares down at Charles' strong, square hand stretched to grasp around him, pale where Erik's cock is dark with blood. He knows Charles is staring, too. When Charles thumbs the head, Erik's dick jumps in his hand, and they both suck in their breath at the same time.

Erik doesn't know what he wants more, to kiss Charles or to stay like this. Watching Charles touch him. Knowing how much Charles likes what he's seeing, looking at Erik. 

He doesn't know why this is so different from what they just tried. Why this feels right, and that felt...like he was exposed, or something. Like when Moira walked in on them in the library, that one time, when Charles was like two seconds from giving Erik a handjob, and Erik had wanted to die.

"Did you take any pictures?" Erik says.

Charles makes a small affirmative noise. He's moving his hand now, slow strokes that feel almost exploratory (even though by now Charles is definitely familiar with the territory). More than a tease, but not enough to push Erik farther. "Just one or two," he says. 

"Can I see?"

Charles reaches into his pocket with his left hand. It's almost funny for a moment, watching him, his left hand reaching over to his right pocket while his right hand strokes Erik's dick, nice and slow, not missing a beat. He's fully hard now, or nearly, but Charles isn't going fast or hard enough to let him actually come anytime soon. He looks away from his dick and back over at Charles as he fumbles with his phone, his non-dominant hand struggling to press to the fingerprint scanner. He thumbs over to the photos and then tilts the screen towards Erik and flips back and forth through the three pictures for Erik to see.

They are, objectively, really hot. Erik, leaning against the headboard, with his hand on his dick and his eyes closed. Erik's sure that if he saw them on a porn tumblr or something, he'd be totally into them, but looking at them like this, knowing it's him, just makes that creeping embarrassment come back. He has no idea why--if he was taking them himself, sitting in his own bedroom and floating his phone across from the bed to capture a full body shot, he'd be super pleased with himself and probably get off just on the idea of Charles getting off on them. The whole thing is so messed up.

"It's not messed up," Charles murmurs into his ear. He must be thinking pretty loud if Charles can hear him. "It's different, me taking them then you taking them. I'll delete them if you want." His grip twists as he readjusts himself on the bed, and Erik has to bite back a moan.

"No," he pants. "I don't...I don't want to take anymore, but you can keep them." 

"We'll talk about it more when you're less distracted," Charles says, but his voice is kind of rough, the way it gets when he's turned on. Erik isn't the only one who's distracted. "What do you want me to do?"

"Take off your clothes," Erik says, without even pausing to think. As hot as it is with Charles sitting next to him, fully clothed and jerking him off, he wants to see Charles. He wants to be able to touch and mark Charles' skin.

"I'll have to stop this," Charles warns, squeezing Erik's dick, and Erik nods, even as he's hissing at how good it feels. Charles' hand drops away and his dick wetly smacks his stomach as Charles peels off his shirt and then attempts to wiggle out of his trousers. Erik does his best to help, leaning over and tugging and lifting where needed, but it's possible his desire to rub his skin up against Charles' hinders more than anything else. Still, it's not long before Charles is just as naked as he is, his body lightly flushed, a sure sign that he's aroused.

"You're so hot," Erik mutters absently, dragging his nails across Charles' stomach and watching him twitch and gasp. He can understand, then, why Charles would be so into the idea of taking pictures of Erik. He certainly wouldn't be against doing the same thing to Charles, especially because Charles is good at a lot of things, but selfies aren't one of them.

Still, they can talk about that later. Much later, hopefully.

Erik kneels up and leans over, bracing one hand on the headboard and the other on Charles' shoulder so they can kiss. Charles' hands grip tight on Erik's sides while he sucks Erik's tongue. Erik needs to be closer, close as he can, and he settles himself carefully in Charles' lap. His dick rubs against Charles' stomach like this every time he moves.

"Mm," Charles murmurs against his mouth. "Do you want--I mean, I'd like you to fuck me tonight."

Erik can't help but grin. "Like I'm going to say no to that."

"Excuse you, I seem to remember you saying no to me plenty of times this summer!" Charles points out, laughing a little.

"Those were exceptional circumstances," Erik says. He grabs a couple of pillows as Charles moves down the bed, and they arrange them together, propping Charles up until he's comfortable. Erik sets himself between Charles' legs, staring down at him. 

Sometimes Charles is so beautiful Erik thinks he's going to forget how to breathe. 

"First, can I...?" he asks, and Charles nods enthusiastically before he can even finish the sentence. It's so weird to him, still, that he would almost prefer this--kissing, touching, exploring Charles' body inside and out--to any actual sex act. He wasn't like, greedy with his exes--they always got off too. But it wasn't anything like this.

He leans over, supporting himself on his elbows and pressing his body up against Charles' in order to kiss him again. Charles kisses back happy and ravenous, his lips curling against Erik's, his hands all over Erik, encouraging him in everything. Charles' nails dig in and scrape against his skin, riding that line of pain and pleasure that drives Erik crazy, like when Charles pulls his hair. He moves lower, pressing soft kisses against Charles' jaw, the line of his throat, not nearly as much pressure as he can tell Charles wants, not until he gets over behind Charles' ear, where he nips and sucks and thrills a little at the noise that Charles can't quite hide when he does it, something between a moan and a shout, choked off and desperate, a reminder that he's not in this alone, that he drives Charles as crazy as Charles drives him.

He leaves a mark there--he can't not--and hopefully it will be covered up by Charles' hair, not that Erik cares whether anyone can see it. Maybe it will last the whole week and a half. Maybe it will still be there when they're back together, a little piece of Erik to bridge this time apart.

Charles isn't passive as Erik continues his exploration (nosing Charles' collarbones, biting his shoulder, licking the always enticing curl of his bicep); his hands are still everywhere, scraping over Erik's shoulders, rubbing hard against the hickey on Erik's collarbone, pulling his hair, holding him down when he gets to a place that Charles wants him to give more attention. He doesn't think Charles could be passive about anything, but Erik weirdly loves how much he gets into this. It may have taken him a couple weeks to ask out loud for what he wanted, but once they're in the moment of it all, he's always so bossy--it's kind of awesome.

He does pull away from Charles' greedy hands once he's been biting and sucking Charles' nipples for a few moments.

"I don't want you to come yet," he tells Charles when he lifts his head, far too amused by Charles' outraged glare. Charles shudders underneath him at that, though, and he lets go of his death grip on Erik's hair.

Erik moves further down, until he's kneeling between Charles' legs. His initial intention had been to rim Charles a little--it doesn't, he thinks, feel as good for Charles as it does for Erik, but Erik's a big fan and Charles apparently appreciates the visual--but he gets distracted by Charles' cock, which is mostly hard. That's not true all of, or even most of, the time when they're having sex, so he figures he should take advantage of it. He sucks it, greedy and rough, the way he's learned to over these past few months. He doesn't really miss most of the things that Charles can't do in bed--not for his sake at least--but he does sort of feel bad that Charles doesn't normally come from blowjobs. Erik _loves_ sucking cock and he's really fucking good at it. It kind of bums him out, sometimes, that the person he loves most in the world might never get to fully experience how good it is.

"It's still good," Charles says, voice all hoarse and rough. He pulls Erik's hair again and Erik almost moans. "It's still really good, Erik, you're so good, seeing you like this--everytime it's so..."

Erik pulls off slowly, licking his lips and blinking up at Charles from under his lashes. Charles tugs on his hair even harder and Erik lets him push him back down, and then up again, lets Charles control the pace and depth of Erik bobbing on his dick.

"God, look at you," Charles breathes, and Erik shudders. His own cock is so hard that it's difficult not to just rub himself off against the sheets while he sucks Charles. But Charles wants to get fucked, and Erik wants that, too. Most of the time this summer they were pretty quick, blowjobs and handjobs and frottage outside or before Erik's family could get home and interrupt them, not so much the drawn out process that penetration is. And that other stuff is awesome, but so is this.

Charles' phone is still on the bed where he dropped it. Maybe...seeing everything is such a big part of it for Charles, Erik has always known that. And he's still a little embarrassed about it, but...well, if it's the two of them together, Charles just as exposed as him, that feels different. It feels different if Erik is the one taking the picture. It's kind of exciting thinking about it, the same way sexting was in the first place.

He floats the phone over, still sucking at Charles. Charles doesn't notice it until Erik takes the first picture, and then his sudden surprise echoes in Erik's head.

"Are you sure?" Charles says, hands going still.

Erik takes another picture before he drags his mouth off again, sucking in a few deep breaths before he speaks.

"Well, obviously!" Erik says. Charles' dick is still pretty hard, so Erik keeps his hand on it, jerking it roughly. "Now pass the lube over here."

Charles laughs, but he does it. 

It's a little harder to concentrate once he's pressing slippery fingers into Charles. It's tight and hot and it would have been heady even if Charles hadn't started panting, the muscles in his stomach twitching as Erik rubs against his prostate.

"Come on, come on," Charles murmurs. "Do it, Erik, come on--"

"Impatient," Erik huffs, trying not to laugh, but he's just as impatient, really. Not so impatient that he's not careful, but once he's positive Charles is ready, he doesn't waste much time in getting up on his knees and pushing in, slowly and steadily.

Charles is slick with sweat and flushed and trembling under Erik's hands. He's so beautiful that Erik can hardly breathe, even as he flexes his hips, thrusting in and out. He belatedly remembers the phone and attempts to take a few more pictures, but he's distracted and has no idea how they come out.

"I...really fucking...love you," Erik manages to say. He doesn't want to come, not yet, not until he gets Charles off, but it's so hard to fight back the rising tide of arousal. He shifts slightly, so he can lean over enough to kiss Charles again. One of Charles' hands is balled up in the sheets of the bed, but the other tangles into Erik's hair. 

_Me too_ , Charles says in his head. They're still kissing and they're sharing every breath they each take and Erik is inside Charles' body and Charles is inside Erik's head, and this is it, isn't it, this is as close as two people can possibly get, wrapped up in each other in this endless spiral. Erik wants it to never end. He wants them to stay like this forever.

"Are you close?" Charles whispers, breath hot on Erik's skin. He uses his hold on Erik's hair to tilt his head and starts to mouth against his jaw. Erik shuts his eyes and bites his lip against the moan that wants to escape--although why he bothers he's not sure. They can be loud here, it doesn't matter, no one else is here to hear, just the two of them private and perfect and whole.

"Want you to come first," Erik says, and that's quiet, too, but only because his voice is so low and raspy already. It's also a goal that seems ever less likely. Every time Erik tries to slow down and make himself last, Charles makes another little noise or moves or talks or _something_. He's fucking into Charles hard now, he can't help it, the mattress bouncing beneath them with every thrust. 

Charles releases his grip on Erik's hair, which would be disappointing, except Erik immediately sees the reason behind it. Erik's hands are both occupied already, supporting his weight so he can hold himself over Charles and they can kiss. So of course Charles, brilliant as he is, gets his own hand between them so his nipples and chest don't get neglected.

"Oh," Charles says, or kind of says. It's barely even a word, almost more of just an exhalation under his breath. He's doing it over and over, almost like a chant, in rhythm with every slam of Erik's hips. "Oh, oh, oh..."

"Feels good?" Erik manages to say. "Feels good, right?" He doesn't know why he says it--obviously it feels good--but it seems like the right thing to say at the moment, with Charles so urgent and happy in his arms.

 _Fuck, Erik_ , Charles says, and when he pinches his nipples again, he shares the feeling with Erik. Erik doesn't know if he's doing it on purpose or he just can't contain it anymore, but it's playing dirty, making Erik feel Charles' pleasure and his own, too. 

Erik pulls his mouth away a little, trying to take a deep breath and tamp down his desperation for a minute. It doesn't work; Charles surges up to follow, capturing Erik in another kiss, and a sharp nip on Erik's lower lip.

"I can't, I can't," Erik gasps and he comes, clutching Charles to him and pulling his mouth clumsily away so he can gasp for breath. 

He may not have held out for Charles, but Charles isn't far behind him, his body going rigid and tight in Erik's arms before he can even catch his breath.

Erik rolls them both onto their sides, off of the pillows, so they can look at each other. Charles is flushed and sleepy and smiling the way he really smiles when they're alone, not the stupid camera smile he makes for pictures. Erik finds the phone again and levitates it over the bed to take one last photo. Charles doesn't even notice.

"You're so perfect," he murmurs, nuzzling Erik's shoulder. "Everything about you. Even the things I hate are perfect, because they make you you."

Charles always says stupid cheesy things like that when he's post-coital, but that doesn't mean Erik doesn't eat it up every time. He knows he should get up and clean them up, that if he doesn't, they'll fall asleep sticky and wake up gross and glued together and cranky, but he wants to put it off just a little bit longer. They'll only be apart half as long as they were at the start of the summer, but it somehow feels longer. He suddenly gets what Charles was so upset about yesterday--it does weirdly feel like something's ending.

It's stupid. He knows it's stupid. In a week and a half, they'll be together again. They'll be upperclassmen. They'll be living together. They're both taking awesome classes. They'll be around all their friends again.

And maybe that's it. Maybe that's the thing--even though they've shared this summer with Raven and Erik's family, it's really been just them, together, all the time. No one else factored into it. And even though he's maybe, sort of missed some of their friends, going back to campus means that other people will be around all the time. 

It's so strange, wanting something and not wanting it simultaneously.

He wraps his arms more firmly around Charles, who inches closer to him, eyes fluttering closed.

"Don't leave early," Charles pleads. "I know you like to get on the road early, but stay with me a little longer. Please?"

There's no way Erik can ever say no to that. It's true that he usually likes to start a long drive as early as he can, but...a few more hours with Charles seems a lot more important right now.

"Yeah," he says. "Yeah. I'll stay a little longer."

Charles sighs happily against his neck. "I need to shower," he says. Erik's arms tighten around him again involuntarily and Charles sounds amused when he continues, "You can come with me, if you like."

"Okay," Erik says, because he doesn't plan on being apart from Charles tonight a single moment more than he has to. But it still takes some effort to force himself to release his hold and separate his body from Charles'. If during sex they were _ErikandCharles_ , that can't last; they're back to _Erik and Charles_ again.

But the _and_ is the important part. And Erik has no intention of that changing, and he knows Charles doesn't either. It's going to be true tonight as they shower or watch TV or sleep together in Charles' huge bed, and it will still be true when they're hundreds of miles of apart again tomorrow. And it will definitely be true when they reunited back at school.

Charles has managed to pull on his underwear and move to his chair. He raises one eyebrow at Erik, who's still lounging idly as he thinks.

"Aren't you going to join me, love?" Charles says, smiling softly.

"Yes," Erik says, and he rises out of bed to follow Charles forward.


End file.
